Elegy for the Lost Ship

By Ojo Taiye

a bird screams out of my window & I end up where I begin. what's ill-fitting has

undertow. a fish of my own desires. I am doing an investigation on home. I am told by

mother the days are slow to pass, so I chew the wind and soiled my sleeves. in all of

this, there are too many drooping poppies. forgive me, forgive me. there is too much to

say for this body built for sacrifice. my father's guilt wears me like a purse as unkempt

as my lover's heart. I am having trouble remembering my sister's face. in my earliest

memory, a boy loses grasp on a branch falling not too far from his mother's tired fat. I

know regret better than anyone. every grown-up child singing winter with a splice

tongue is my typecast. my body responds to touch, jiggles at the suggestion of loss. I

study my grandmother's body. my grandmother who could not wait for me to lock the

doors of her heart. I have been cancelled & candled by solitude. the solitude of litanies

without their tensile tenure. somewhere south on king's avenue, I once kissed a girl &

she flinched & sobbed as though she had just lost something forever inside me. a

woman I know is laid out today. her face so full of wonder & uncomplicated dreams.