By Chiwenite Onyekwelu
Because deep down all we
want is to be split apart. Or do you
not see it clearly enough—
this mole on your flesh,
tender as light & sinking
through. It was never always so.
The bodies in motion
were once at peace. Your
voice was your voice
& this thirst, only thirst. Even what
now rises to pierce you
in half was never so.
But this is the moment we
risk it all. I am in danger of getting
drowned. I emerge, head-first
& you open. You swallow
the whole of me to keep me
from harm. Once again I am caught
mid-air. Once again,
my love— you offer me
a soft landing. Have you ever
thought about this: all that violence,
why do we keep asking
for a taste of more?
Call it the Mystery of
Gratification. And here is where we
ignite. What we pick from
the trash is always ours—
the clothes, some splintered
limb, a torso, or even a conversation.
It is the soot after brushfire.
The evidence that
something more ferocious
than forest wind has been found
& let loose.
BIO:
Chiwenite Onyekwelu is a poet. His works have appeared on Rough Cut Press, America Magazine, Isele, Cultural Weekly and elsewhere. He was a finalist for the 2021 New York Encounter Poetry Contest and winner of the 2020 Jack Grapes Poetry Prize,. Find him on Instagram: (@chiwenite_onyekwelu) and Twitter: (@chiwenite9).