i.
mother,
the blue light harbours me for a while.
the distance between razor-clasped fingers & my wrist
is my best shot at staying alive.
ii.
there is a concert in this cathedral: the ceiling hanging askew, dust in my veins, questions stringing the hollow of my chest, thoughts bleached into falsettos. a boy dug out my heart and replaced it with a throbbing wreath of 30cm nails. today, i think of nudging the chaos to an end— my friends’ revisiting old whatsapp chats, scrolling through my uploaded pictures, their minds playing gymnastics with memory: he used to be a lean grass, an aching green, so full of chlorophyll, even the roughest of harmattan winds could never wear him of colour.
iii.
the blue light is numbness. here, laughter is ice melting slowly
on my tongue.
iv.
my breathing is a blur.
v.
redemption is history.
Mhembeuter Jeremiah Orhemba is a Tiv, Nigerian and first runner up for the 2021 Kreative Diadem Flash Fiction Contest. He is the Associate Prose Editor I for The Muse Journal No 50. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Lolwe, Sovereign: An Anthology of Black Fantasy Fiction, The Shallow Tales Review, FictionWrit, Arts Lounge, Eboquills, The Muse Journal, Agapanthus Collective, ARTmosterrific, Fiction Niche and elsewhere. He tweets @son_of_faya.