Myth
We are cat (h)air & sky
every colour here
is
lemon & grass & street
on a girl’s thigh
there’s a way we carry god
with scarf
& firewood
we enter glass
we become receptacles
carrying stories
in our wounds
till we all go to hell
yes, wearing organs
& fitting into tiny diamonds
on the devil’s back
we know the halfness
our body becomes
with water
&
fire & tiny little sexes
tightening
like zero point five
millimeter copper
we know these things
we
know how we fold tongue
to hair or
grey skin them
so they shine angels
Photograph
father always
died & his skin
shone jazz with
mother’s clothes
knitting his body
into her nutmeg
breath i tuck
my hair into
psalm ninety
one listening to
my father’s
mirror scattering
on her chest
like some urban
egg breaking
into almond skin
i am in
my room calculating
how much time
he’d swell
today inside her
purple face
or burst in this
body full
of oranges
&
caffeine
About the Poet
Victor Ugwu writes from Minna, Nigeria. He is a member of the Hill-top art foundation under which he published his first poetry chapbook “Rhythms”. He’s a contributing poet to the Praxis magazine, ANA review, Kalahari review, Eureka street and elsewhere.
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