SONG OF SURVIVAL
Josiah Osagie
The blunt edge of the scalpel you purchased on Amazon sits in the perfect midpoint of your index finger, your forearm is poised for reentry, your mouth dry with anticipation. O, how you thirst for exultation. Quickening thunder of systole electrifies your nihilistic streak. The air in the room is still as steel. Silver salvation seethes your name. The canvas of skin between your wrist and elbow is as a Rothko painting: a dissertation in red, swift cacophony of cardinals, spirit cut down in anger.
You've been rusting
for too long
flaking away
you, beautiful boy,
son of a mother
who sang
proverbs as she washed
your infant hair
you, vessel of unquenched
yearnings,
gazer of unwashed
skies, crooner
of birdsong,
you, who dream of long walks
through meadows of wooly thyme, you
who dialogue with
winged insects,
eggshells,
letters scrawled in graffiti,
archival images,
sidewalk furniture
and other forgotten things
[you who would rather exist
than be remembered]
you who,
on this wretched effervescent noon,
have resolved
not to die.
You've been rusting
for too long
flaking away
you, beautiful boy,
son of a mother
who sang
proverbs as she washed
your infant hair
you, vessel of unquenched
yearnings,
gazer of unwashed
skies, crooner
of birdsong,
you, who dream of long walks
through meadows of wooly thyme, you
who dialogue with
winged insects,
eggshells,
letters scrawled in graffiti,
archival images,
sidewalk furniture
and other forgotten things
[you who would rather exist
than be remembered]
you who,
on this wretched effervescent noon,
have resolved
not to die.
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BIO:
Josiah Osagie is a Nigerian poet and psychiatry resident at the University of Toronto. He was born and raised in Lagos. He admires the colour blue and giggles at describing himself in the third person. He tweets @riceandplantain. |
