I am morally constipated, woman, I have no excreta to offer. However green the mint eyes. However scarlet the blue sea. However auburn the purpling sky, I will not bruise into a scab. Black & beaten & bound, I will not be. I will cruise – jocular – upon the devil’s spear-cackle, past the orifices of heaven and hell and love and brittle and tender and please – I will live my death and kill my life. I, crater. I, liar. I, thief. From the crepuscular corners of my rotting mouth, I pus you. Glorify the bloated dead & poison & glue-board & trip-wire & cheese-trap & murder – kiss my browning whiskers, lick my slimy tail. You do not know what it means to be born dirty and scampering with a distrust of unscarce bread and fear and fear and fear of –
glum shadow,
raven and foot-sized life-pit
pooling, pooling.
Chinaza James-Ibe writes and practices photography in Nigeria. Her work has appeared in Luminary Lines, Poetry Column-NND, Poetry Sango-Ota, Akewi, Isele Magazine, Lolwe, The Shallow Tales Review, Agbowo, Brittle Paper, and elsewhere. She recently won the 2024 Awele Creative Trust Short Story Award, and the Nwelechi Prize for Non-fiction.