I tell you I sometimes wonder about my dog dying
and my heart is more ache than muscle. You say,
I have such a soft center, and I become Jericho –
city without walls;
city with all its gates blasted open.
When I die, I want everything in the world to mourn
me. The longer I live, the more regrets I have
to be accountable for. When asked how I am, I talk
about my friends to keep from admitting anything.
Like that time in a room somewhere, in the company
of strangers and a now distant love, when we
dragged joy into our lungs. Puffing. Passing.
Until all our sorrows became smoke and everything
was possible except what had threatened to disappear
us. Until lost hands carved a ruined city from between
my legs and I wondered whose sins I was paying for
and knew the answer. All our wounds begin
from the same place. Sometimes, the grief we carry
is better than the one we deserve. How are you? You ask.
I worry I can’t love my friends out of the worst
of themselves. I am hurrying towards a place where
my mother and I can love each other without first
disguising who we are. I want to get there faster
than time can kill us. Can kill me. You say what
you love most about the rain is the excuse to abandon
the day’s plans and start again. You are making a
celebration out of making hot cocoa and preparing
for a nap. Start again. I am returning to what has kept
me alive so far –
your pillow-soft arms,
the smell of clothes drunk from the sun,
and my dog, barking at the slightest bang
because it might mean the return of
someone she loves.
What music is that? I say, give me your hand.
You are already dancing.
Precious Arinze is a Nigerian poet, essayist, and author of the chapbook, The Hope of Floating Has Carried Us So Far, selected by Chris Abani and Kwame Dawes for the New-Generation African Poets Series (African Poetry Book Fund, 2021) and the Spanish Language Anthology of Poetry, Tres Preguntas: Poetas Jóvenes De Nigeria, published by the National Autonomous University of Mexico. Their works have appeared in Brittle Paper, Lolwe, Agbowo, ANMLY, The Republic Journal, Boston Review, Electric Literature, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Exposition Review, and Berlin Quarterly, among others.
