And in all these ways a woman is God


By Roseline Mgbodichinma

I. In the chapel, the bell rings & the pendulum swings all into solemnity – the same way a mother’s breast becomes hose and stills the clamour of a child,

The only salvation I know is an umbilical cord holding life away from sin – till it is old enough to witness it

II. In this poem, sacrifice is a cycle expelling itself on the days of each month – is the cross not synonym for opposite eggs ascending or descending into a new realm?

Redemption is a woman blooming into herself

III. And what else is glory, if not a woman choosing to breathe amidst the chaos forcing her to shrink?

Grace is the atlas pointing the world to light & she never runs out of stardom

IV. I know three heavens and they reside in the body of a woman; a paradise of curves & rolls, a galaxy of intricacies & tiger stripes, a palace of bones to hold up memory – all stretching onto skin to expound divinity.

& here I declare a woman’s body a temple, anyone who calls this blasphemy is simply faithless



Roseline Mgbodichinma is a Nigerian writer whose works have appeared or are forthcoming in The African writer, Kalahari, Okadabooks, Nigerian Students Poetry Prize 2019 Anthology, West Trestle Review, Hellebore press, JFA human rights, Artmosterrific & elsewhere. She is interested in the humanity of people and blogs at
Twitter: Rmgbodichinma
Instagram: Roseline_mgbo