Soot and Damp
written by: Sunday T. Saheed
no bloody scene here,
or the display of grief —I promise.
I won’t tell of the cat I said
gnawed at my reflection yesterday,
or the hole on my cheek,
dug deep —that pours my blood, gut, spittle and withhold
prayers. I’m not here to
show you the resin of the weight
of my pains
& I won’t tell you
how heavy they were,
heavier than sixty-two rhinoceroses
say, how they choke my
breath and the line my soul is hung on
—my viscera, my innards
I’m not here for all that.
tell the Lord for me,
be the old woman in my dreams.
the pains I’ve endured is enough
—my body is no longer a sponge
that absorbs pains as drops.
I don’t think I recognize peace again
is it a shadow that laps the wild
wolf behind our brain?
or is it a lapis, or a marble
I might stumble into? & I am blind of that.
tell the Lord for me,
I want to clutch my fingers into its belly
& rip out its guts, so that they might
dry on my fingertips. Won’t I know
peace if I taste the sweeter part of its
blood —the stomach?
& won’t peace become the fish
& I, the aquarium?
say, I shall house peace.
—I shall house peace & build a shed.
- Soot and Damp - March 2, 2022
