the clock—
she echoes the footfalls of time
traveling Eastward with the charts on my palms
i do not want to overthink transition
how my body is vanishing with the vapour
of tears on the keys of a grandpiano.
i swear,
i’m spent weaving a nest in my hair
to host a phoenix for its secret
— this knowing how to
fetch starshine & rainbow from ashes
of a self, formed from a song
too beautiful to strain its last note
this being, i command you not
to be forgotten. i command you
not to be like my ancestral god
who drew a bloodline from the cells of daffodils
& forgot to brand its name with his fingerprints
bold enough to be half invisible
i command you to remain, this body.
but if i linger on, Ajuma,
there will be no crossing
the borderline into this dreamscape
where thrushes gush psalms
from your mouth. this is a feeble metaphor
for your laughter that soaks my scars
with an endless song
— scars that’ll absorb every note
for the empty syrinxes of fallen cherubs
who are dreaming of wooing God into mercy.
Martins Deep
Martins Deep (he/him) is a Nigerian poet, artist, & and currently a student of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. His works deeply explores the African experience of the boy/girl child. His creative works have appeared, or are forthcoming on FIYAH, The Roadrunner Review, Covert Literary Magazine, Barren Magazine, The Hellebore, Chestnut Review, Mineral Lit Mag, Agbowó Magazine, Surburban Review, IceFloe Press, FERAL, Kalopsia Literary Journal, Libretto Magazine, Kalahari Review, & elsewhere. He loves jazz, adores Bethel Music and fantasizes reincarnating as an owl. He tweets @martinsdeep1
Photo by Johannes Plenio from Pexels