Busy
- Jun 17, 2022
- 1 min read
by Christtie Jay

Mother, I can not call because the darkness that has befallen is brutal. Yesterday, walking my bicycle to work I almost lost an eye weighed by how hard it is not to throw a stone at the man you love when he says no to you collecting his coat and breathing in his hair every morning. Now, crouched over a coffee cup I am losing my breath chewing my tongue, trying to remember never to call for help because at this age, goodbye shouldn’t be a dress that leaves bruising. But ma this new job is salt. Leaves me mopping the toilet floor with my tongue and dancing
at friends' weddings, pretending to be alive and amused by the daffodils
while my heart gets fucked by a train and I forget the difference between dawn and dusk.
Christtie Jay is a Nigerian Writer and Lawyer. Her works appear in A Long House, Kissing Dynamite, Praxis, The Rumpus, Glass: A Journal Of Poetry, Kalahari, Poetry Potion, amongst others.


