Blue Music Dream

Night Sheds Its First Child (For Njambi)

Night sheds its first child,

Where you arrive cold and naked,

Now at sea level, now I turn into mist

Where long funeral gloves touch my earlobe

I wake up to your 7 a.m. phone call

 

“Come to where the nurses reenact

My health. I’m maddened by the light of day

Come to this place where the perimeter wall is a diagnosis,

I’m calling. Come.”

 

Listening to the color of skin through a phone call

That is how I deal with this. An ideal

Is to leave your voice there but no

One else will ever offer me funeral gloves

Or an open field of day to start again.

 

Yet my hands fit in the funeral glove

I know that voice, through the transmission how

You settle in the open field of my complex

How strange and cold our bodies

Unfurl like heavy mist

 

 

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s