When you died mum moved your bed,
I took your place.
It was not difficult changing the television channel
from Keeping Up with the Kardashians to Black-ish.
At night your dog kept barking,
we thought it was learning to accept the heat.
We wanted happiness, you wanted flowers.
& when the chrysanthemum germinated
you asked if I had ever thought of losing something,
I said no, because denial eases the pain.
I once lost my ping pong ball, it was found in your chest.
We are always wanting what we can’t have.
At the prom, I pretended I was you just to dance
with Judith, the one that never looked at me.
This night I write your name first
& I can’t… all over the paper
Hoping you won’t be found in me.
The leaves scatter, decomposing.
Akpa Arinzechukwu is a twenty-two-year-old Nigerian genderqueer. They have work in Saraba, Transition, New Contrast, Sou’wester, Brittle Paper, and elsewhere. They are the author of the poetry pamphlet, City Dwellers (Splash of Red).
