peel my tongue from the venom
of their mouths,
bleach my rug of the blossom
of bloodstains, each time my amasii uprouse
the speos in the frenzy.
will you shield me? shield me from the fetor
of Golgotha as they lay me in the urn of their beds,
prying the debris apart,
purple reeds, flaming lies with my rosary beads
These are my sins and the ones I forget…
if i am doomed for the benthos (ije awele) or the chthonian
stove—for i loved with no cadence—break me, break me to shreds,
rip me to pieces & let no life grow where I rest; for
love is unfertile ground and the seeds come
undone in the rains.
Diana Nnaemeka is an Igbo writer. She likes to think of herself as a free spirit and a lover of worlds in bits. Her works are forthcoming in The Walled City Journal and elsewhere. She writes from Enugu. Twitter (@queerling__)