By Goodnews Karibo
again I come to the place where I am
inept at upending my fears.
to sort each quaking bone for its
smouldering nerves.
before I take my body out into the open
fields. before I listen
closely for the origin of my grieving.
before I put a finger to
the heart of the storm, there are mouths
opening up against me,
there are hedges impeding the spurting
lights. each mouth is a fox
good with its feet, each mouth is a red spear
in my dream. I undress
my conscience ready to fuck the naked
monstrosity of the order of things.
I am most open when an empty road plants
a mirage ahead of me.
the shackled bird singing against its rusted
cage, a futile ode to the
deepening details blurring away. I hold a
portion of glass to my grief,
let the world see all the waters drowning me,
the unplucked chords
of my days that lay glistening.
BIO:
Goodnews Karibo is a Southern Nigerian poet from Port Harcourt. His poems have been published by Shallow Tales Review, Brittle Paper, African Writer, etc. He is a Best of the Net nominee. He tweets via @slendergrass.