THE PROBLEM OF GRIEF

inside my mother's mouth
is a ticking bomb when prayer point
becomes a bargain between her and God

i do not know what to name my grief
i call it the tip of a knife straying
to the root of my stomach

everything my hand touches turns black
my problem isn't how well i persevere
since kindergarten people call me little angel
yet the sky is so dark and there is no heaven
made for my wings to soar

my name tastes like acid
i wonder if God still pronounces me
without burning

my mother prays i soar like little bubbles
only if she knew bubbles are thin
world easily knifed by the wind

in the mirror, i hold my body with a gaze
my reflection is a flickering candle flame
ready to quench

inside my throat is a December sky
everything is so frozen
my voice shatters like brittle shards

these undertows pride on
taking dominion over the oceans
they do not know inside my mouth
are earthquakes i chew before bedtime

i walk my body to the shore
i am shocked at the size of my footprints
it is enough to say grief has claimed
a larger part of my flesh

i imagine my body a firefly
crushed by the fist of night
my name is anything sounding like
glasses against glasses,
metals against metals

Jonathan is a young black poet who writes to heal his emotional wounds. He lives somewhere in Benin City, Nigeria. He has his work on or forthcoming in various magazines and journals — Eunoia Review, Canvas Literary Journal, Kalahari Review, DeLuge, Indolent Books, Electronic Pamphlet, Brittle Paper, African Writer, Rising Phoenix Review, Coldnoon Magazine, Tuck Magazine and host of others. He can be reached on (Twitter @joepoet_) (Instagram @joepoet_) and (Facebook @Jonathan Endurance).