Michael Akuchie

The Body Dies for Every Reason

midway across afternoon, i am buried under a romance novel, 

cross-legged  & watching the world go on without me. 

i have been toying around with a suicide note,  

the location for draining the entirety of my spirit.  

what do i call my shadow fading away delicately

or the relationship i build with the tip of a knife? 

i have death coming up from my nostrils, 

each passing second is a modeled departure.  

there is nothing new about a cemetery,  

i have each name stored in mental drawer,

& often times there is a tone of absence when the bodies speak, 

softly numbing the words before they leave this mouth. 

I pronounce my name in the manner of matchsticks, 

aglow with soul until winds kiss you in advance 

for your trip to where human voices never touch.    

i am always heavy with life's violence,

each breath is a renewed faith in burning. 

allow me show you the route to becoming a fireplace, 

or do you want firestorms coming home to you every night?  

I hold no water in my mouth when i call myself a province of doom,  

today & other unborn days are ghosts swarming around here. 

each portion of this body is a word i do not explain,  

because you know where a fire goes after raging hard.

Nigerian-based Michael Akuchie is a poet and dreamer. His works have appeared on Barren Magazinepeculiars magazineEuonia ReviewVagabond City Lit MagKalahari Review& elsewhere. He currently studies English at the University of Benin, Nigeria. He is Contributing Editor for Barren Magazine.