the women |

they raise their voices      the way
fire raises smoke       & the rain answers

with a flood

the first rule |

the first rule is to stay
afloat until you become something like

a boat        but

the men |

they ran
& the water gave them new homes    &

new gods & new languages etched on
their tongues & a new suffering

my grandfather |

in his mouth there were many
tongues     &

his friend |

on his back there was a story
written with the white man's whip   &

my father |

my father's taste buds are
made up of English         when he first

kissed me I was asleep with my eyes wide
open        & when I woke up there was

a bullet in my hand

I |

I carry it like
a flower      like a good son would carry

his father's gift      & ever since I witnessed
the river of a boy's body leaving him

I've been leaning onto my thirst

father |

at the end of my fear there was mercy

& at the end of mercy there was a gun

when I cry it's an act of cleansing
& father

when |

when I am bold enough

to wield a scalpel

where |

where shall I begin to cleave the naked body
of our suffering                              where —

© 2024 Chinedu Gospel