Experimenting a Wound

May 5, 2023

A song filters in the atmosphere, it is the Chaos

penetrating the only crescent I enrooted in my

father’s fragile skin. Daily, I placed my tongue

at intervals between prayer and gunfire and

I grow memories from moth and dying infant.

There is a country in the middle like a dream,

growing to poison — And I am too beguiled by

the tender mouth of a knife. It means experimenting

the graph of memory and gun noise. What is

contentment, if not the way we commune our

bodies in a poem? Today I recognize the strength

of a bullet racing toward a body in his mid-twenties.

Which is to say, Sometimes, I carpenter myself a Shadow

and mother says, it is the eligibility of birthing that separates

me from a molecule. Perhaps, a poem confides a grief

and I am a boy still undoubting the science of recycling

into a plant or manure. I now carry the wing of a dialect—

Je veux juste vivre. Lord, espy me and feel how I yearn

to touch my skin at the wake of every blue morning,

before this body breaks into multiple chrysanthemums.


Anderson Moses is a poet from Nigeria, His works have been published or forthcoming in many literary magazines. When he’s not writing, he’s designing.


Featured image by Elīna Arāja on Pexels