A Body Performing a Disappearing Act
Like lace dipped in vinegar sorrow
the nature of my narcissism is translucent,
this body, almost transparent, almost fading to nothing
this skin, almost disappearing, almost syncing to dust
If only I could hold light in the palm of my hands,
push bits of it under each layer of my skin
maybe then will heaven see
how much this body aches for visibility
to be seen as it is, brown and in bloom
Speak of a body and watch as this body disappears,
blends with the dark and makes love with its shadow.
speak of a body and watch as my mother’s hands slip right
through this body at every attempt to hug pain away,
speak of a body and watch as this body vanishes under my lover’s eyes.
Nightfall in Igarra
The moon tonight is dimmed
from sipping too much darkness,
the clouds are blending towards
nothing. I am trailing behind my mother
into the night, with clay pots etched under our arms
& our feets pressing into sinking grounds.
we are before a stream and before we dip out pots
we first sing. first appease the bending trees and resting waves
with air suspended in our lungs, we sing
we sing for the stream in Etuno, our local dialect.
Mercy Musa is a Nigerian writer who writes from Lagos state . She is a lover of African literature and fantasy books. Her work has appeared in Green Black Tales magazine and The Muse Journal.
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