Eze Ndidiamaka Vera | The Boneless

the small finger of water poking close, as with everything

subjected to rot. we sometimes come to the place where

we are first humans, before pain makes its way into us

like bacteria, like the spearhead of smoke in a keyhole.

and so, in this other life, I am bedecked in grief, hurling

questions at the universe. a small storm yeasts in me

with the debris of the days when I was either measuring up

with the rest of the world or firing canon balls up

an aurora ambience. in this other life, I am leaving

home in search of my place in time. in the flesh of obsession,

I am undressing to the sticky details of

femur and the veritable truths of self: the voice and the vacuum,

the conduit of smoke-stained vision; earth, body, ocean of lonely pebbles,

the music of youthfulness frothing with the days empty

as the black hole of estrangement, as the lyre of grief, the diminutive

fragments of soul and splintered glass. I carry on as the rivulet that

pours into the stomach of the sea so that no grief is wasted, so that no

anthem of insufferable sorrow goes unnoticed.

Goodnews Karibo is from Rivers State, Southern Nigeria. He travels the earth gathering stories to tell Kaleela. His works have been published by African Writer, Stone of Madness Press, PaperCrow Lit, etc. On Twitter he is @goodnews_karibo. On Facebook: Karibo Goodnews.