Leftover Palm Groves

By Jamila Abbas

as lean as the nightingale song sounds, I have
seen god through these white walls twice.
first, through the liquid fussed into my
veins & the hallucinations that these
redemption speaks of. call me prophet, sing
me thongs, the diluted soul from the over-room bouquet.
with the lengthiness of mysticism
the wind was poisoned by broken jazz,
the water danced carrying its sorrows
so dearly, the road leading to Akwanga
was as thin as a gasping breath
coughing out righteousness into leftover palm groves,
filthier than the rag in august.
righteousness is a sacred place
hoping a miracle could be paddled into this body;
to see the movement of god fill the entire room,
a ton of cold blood hoarding the weary soul amidst my wish.
the last I could remember was the lowering of bodies, flowers
& bidding of farewells to a world before me morphing into hymns.

BIO:

Jamila Abbas is a Nigerian poet and writer living in Abuja. She is the author of the poetry collection “Between the Line of a Photograph”.