the dead know nothing about dying
by Chibuihe Obi Achimba
the road-lilies waited for us to pass and begone
their leaves stiff hostages to the shifting clouds of dust
with two bodies already dead by the second curvet
what else could fate harbor up its fuzzy hind legs
if not a growing night
long time ago i was everything before i was made into
somebody i gave up my voice to house all the soft-
boned animals of the wild all things precious and perishing
i arrived here and found my past lives half-opened
to the brief eternities of dawn crinkling only to burn again
there is something about the sky that foretells extinction
it is there in the wheeze of a vanishing jet the last blue jay
sucked into blues long life like the nightbus arrives either late
or not at all yet we praise the road for its gift of distance the asphalt
for its rippling mirage that echoes the promise of rain
for the dead who will die only because they have to
how fortunate for us to bless our own dividing bodies
to pass through our arches while the eaves are still burning
Published on July 30, 2020