small packages for jessica

i

these chemical pikes never heal
although they are efficient as transports to places
where the silence grows into deafening sound.

you look at yourself in the mirror
to realize nothing has changed here
like history trips to katunga and ouidah.
only to realize the geography has been realigned

i like the south, where the sun bleeds in drips
and penguins are not homophobic, discerning,
condescending, heterosexual.
the bright light sways into those rooms we lock

i have been damaged on your behalf
but let me once more be a fool.

that tourist who drinks the tribe’s hallucinogen
and fumbles the dance.

ii
we keep dancing until you are cut
but i bleed instead, we fumble with reason
and open oily packages
i tell you of the magadalenian
and how the verses of the fourteenth
are the best from mark,
and of elisha’s widow waiting to eat

but you do not give bread
being mechanical,
you are for pistons and grease,
knightly armour for the jousts
you order me to the far corner
and impale me upon pills

in the morning i barely
withstand your face
slithering into oblivion

iii
you call me back
for oblivion is not deep enough
for your rage

you should not talk to me
but let me float
where your tentacles cannot grasp

you lecture me
on subjugation, matrimony
and prostitution
you talk of choice

but i am papal
afraid of divine retributions

yet you punish me with
an errand for ru-486
when the red refused to come

____

Richard Anyah tweets @thekillahpriest