Most are clueless about how they will die.
Not me. I know exactly where the sickle
will enter. Unlike you, sir,
I do not need to perform
grief like a child’s well-rehearsed lie.
Finally, I can live
like the world belongs to me
and I, to it. I am a miracle, yes,
and also full of shit. My thighs,
more majestic than Singapore’s
Supertrees, wobble when I forget
to take my pills. Life is one long
journey into tenderness, into rekindling.
Learnt recently butterflies drink crocodile
tears. O, may I be as beautiful
as the metaphor.
Pamilerin Jacob is a Nigerian poet whose poems have appeared or forthcoming in Barren Magazine, Elsieisy, Neologism, Ghost City Press, IceFloe Press, Lit Quarterly & elsewhere. He was the second runner-up for Sevhage Poetry Prize 2019. Author of the chapbook, Gospels of Depression; reach him on Twitter @pamilerinjacob
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