Kissing the Scars on My Wrist
- Sep 16, 2020
- 1 min read
by Abu Bakr Sadiq
she unfolds with the night; fills the room with soul music to wrench out shadows of blue devils. & weave gowns from rays of moonlight to muffle snowballs of her thoughts.
her body is a city she lives in like an immigrant peeling histories off a dead tongue. in this poem, she’s kissing the scars on my wrist as if to dry them of their memories. i touch her face — it breaks into mirages of the storms we quieted
into prayers & because we’ve won battles that limbed joy from our souls, i pin my lips against hers and stuff her mouth with songs from paradise. at dawn, we burn vestiges of anxieties & squeeze the ashes into urns,
offer their ages of preying to the sea to celebrate rebirths of the suns in our eyes — healing, powdered from crossing circles of the heartbeats left in our breastbones, without forgetting to fight and fight, in silence, against the hunger to die.
Abu Bakr Sadiq is a Nigerian poet, studying at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. His works have appeared in Rockvale Review, The Radical Art Review, Konya Shamsrumi, Kreative Diadem and elsewhere. Find him on twitter @bakronline
