To start a poem about bruises
Is to say there’s something fleeting in my body,
& I’m a home for cellos plucked off their strings
So, there’s no way I can make music from my memories,
To tell where a city’s fire met my chin
Holding God’s face in a passionate kiss
& telling him there’s something repelling grace
Inside me, like how this place called home repels
There are days I want to reopen my wound to
The glare of the sun, for which I mean, I’ve
Always hidden my cries in silent overtures.
Say I am crawling out of this unsafe haven—
My faith phoenix-ing out of a pyre. Oh lord,
I want to banish myself from this room
Of dead music & make my language become
My language & watch my wound become
Daffodils glorifying my body.
About the Author: Olowonjoyin Muhammed Sanni (A-Per-Se), he/him, studies Biochemistry at the University of Ilorin. His poems have been published or forthcoming in African Writer Magazine, Words And Whispers, Acropolis Journal, Kreative Diadem, Fiery Scribe Review, Ice Lolly Review, Ngiga Review, Livina Press, Arts Lounge, Poemify, Hey! Young Writer, and elsewhere. He reads poetry for The Dodge Magazine (Ohio). When he’s not tracing biochemical pathways, reading, or writing, he’s searching for peace. He tweets @APerSe_
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