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The Shallow Tales Review
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  • Poetry

a contrition to sanity lost & and love is a specie of madness

  • July 30, 2021
  • theshallowtales
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Credit: Jude Hindan
https://theshallowtalesreview.com.ng/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/a-contrition-to-sanity-lost..mp3

a contrition to sanity lost

to drown a demon is to pour yourself

into a glass of vodka, & finger john legend’s

“all of me” instrumentals on a piano.

it is to fold your body into rolls of

marijuana & burn silently, like incense in

the palm of hot coal. but on the streets

of this poem, my demons wear life jackets—

they only get drunk when i make a waterfall

of whisky in my body.

11pm. the bar is an empty chessboard, &

i am alone, wrestling green bottles

over my sanity. i see a preacher

in the bartender’s eyes— his lips, a broken

faucet, leaking sermons & scripture

verses. i want to say my body is a wardrobe of

assorted demons feeding on the flesh

of my sanity, to say i gamble my sanity

for two pills & a therapy.

& when the priest lays hands on me &

breaks into languages, i swear,

they were just hands— not a museum

of flames walking the streets of my body

in search of a demon to burn.

there’s nothing left of me, only a

raven with cleft beak seeking healing in

green bottles.

https://theshallowtalesreview.com.ng/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/love-is-a-specie-of-madness..mp3

and love is a specie of madness

that is to say, love sleeps // in my head like

brain tumor // to sup on my sanity.

tonight, i am writing a eulogy of seven lines

to my lover. my body is elastic enough

to hold breath like a trophy, to say

my lover /embroiders a hymn on her rusty

lips                           &

plants music in my bones.

& love is a mental illness

seeking a healing balm / in my marrow.

when a body perforates itself // into a sieve

unable to hold in affection, it learns a new hunger/

a yearning/

for laughter.

look, my jaw is heavy of carrying

paradoxes between / sharpened teeth. i have

learned the language of //               a boy

searching the drawers of his chest

for a love potion,

of a boy chewing his grief / like sour grapes.              &

true love happens when a boy

lays down his life on the arms of a noose.

or a child// making a valley in his wrist in

search of the river that drowned his mother’s

memories.


Emmanuel Mgbabor,

a student of the University of Nigeria, Ikwo Ebonyi State, is a 2x award winning poet, a prolific storyteller, and a freelancer. He sees creative writing beyond the corridor of being a mare hobby, but as a career to be embraced. His works have been published and widely read in several magazines including The African Writers Review, Zenpens, amongst others.  Instagram handle: @literati22.

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