Literary Zone

Poetry: Death Dies Everytime We Die

12 January 2008 at 13:09 | 552 views

Death Dies Everytime We Die

By Gbanabom Hallowell.

(for Victor Fashole Luke)

I know that my breast is on fire but I pretend not to know

I know that agony sticks out of my tongue but I insist on chewing

I know that the forest has shrunk into woods yet I sprout as a root

I know that my god is dead yet I tug under my bible

I know that my house is on fire yet I continue to stay in-doors

This clock ticks with dysfunctional legs

death is mad timeless of itself

constipated ocean browsing the mole of hills

death, rhetoric of clay-giant gods

This poem makes itself available

as a bone metaphor

thirsty for the marrow of death.

Today I go figuring the silence

molding in the inner thigh of the restless bone

that quiet silence

creeping between the flesh image

and the skeleton image

such as only a new mortal

or an old mortal would know and not know.

Victor, occasion yourself to life

a rattle in a conjurer’s archeology

you live a simple breath

dead only in the nose!

Victor, you are horseshoe of the desert

camel of the oases.

you did not walk the earth

clinging to a name

did not associate

with the earth’s dust

I have a sandal in my chest to

remember always your arrival

at some place where the earth is not

known as a planet.

You are rain of time fading on two-edged places-

the earth flushes you- the heavens take you in!

Gbanabm Hallowell (c) January 2008