Nameless
my soul is corroded / ache sewn into chest like a badge / I reach out to god with a middle finger / want to chisel the moon with teeth / bite into the only light / I know / I do not know how to name / the fire in my chest but / I / know mother’s tears will put it out / bones thick like bamboo / my wounds speak my mother tongue
- naming is how we retain sanity, I
- name the wound after the priest, I
- name everything…
after the priest the nightmares the panic attacks the syringe the knife I want a future devoid of names of rituals say I have a lover ripe as the sun a nameless woman say our first child will be born without mouth without anus will die the night it slips out of its mother die nameless. wish I could wash my name off my life where in the human body is the delete button
some of us want to disappear
–
–
–
–
–
without leaving a trace…
Please put a Breakup on Your Schedule
how narrow is the vision that exalts the busyness of the ant
above the singing of the grasshopper
– Khalil Gibran
say, you are busy & I am too
a fairytale of entropy
there is no space for loving
in a schedule full of white noise
how long this dance, before our ankles
give out like zippers?
our futures fraternal twins
no semblance in our tomorrows
how much walking distance, before our
knees are uncorked?
two stars in the sky, we spew distinct
light diametric destinies what astrologer
can debunk the prophecy
of our estrangement?
this is why I detest writing about love
look at my fears zest-filled
gussied in sweet metaphors
skittering across the page
I am not used to a love
without opportunity cost please
do not put a breakup
on your schedule do
not flay the awe, glittering
in your eyes. I am a just man
I am just a man
a windowless room & light is a language
I do not yet understand
fully…
Stirred Water in a Bowl
crawling through memory looking
for your footprint is a sweet
activity. we have always courted
danger—the first kiss in a pastor’s house
as he prayed in the other room, your
first nut on a Sunday morning, blowjob
in Lagos traffic—how
irresistible our foolishness. your accent
twirls like stirred water in a bowl. I feign
deafness when your tongue moves quicker
than my ears. our first fight—something
about the disproportionate hunger of bodies. you
were yelling at me over the phone
& all I could think of
was how lucky I was to hear your voice at all.
Pamilerin Jacob is a Nigerian poet whose poems have appeared in Barren Magazine, Agbowo, Dwarts Magazine, Burning House Press, & forthcoming in Rattle. He was shortlisted for the Ken Egba Prize for Festival Poetry 2017 & made the winning list of PIN Food Poetry Contest 2018. Author of Memoir of Crushed Petals & Gospels of Depression; he is a staunch believer in the powers of critical thinking, Khalil Gibran’s poetry & chocolate ice-cream. Reach him on Twitter @pamilerinjacob.
