and before the crack of a tissue clutched by a forceps.
the ivory glow divulged portable chunks of mist, sliding within the clear pond.
I tend to think it’s in Plath’s
poem the hospital is closest to heaven. the snowy hand wets his pharynx. buried deep in the moon, my lover rose cleaner than cotton.
a common edition of his recovery.
we sat, in my style, and halved
our bodies like pie. to be more
than one placed us in limbo.
I pictured the unordered scene: receptionist as an infection;
the settee is a twisting leather
of increasing marks on the skin. maybe the Lord’s hand is tiny
in the extinction of legs
and in plastic suicides.

About the Author

Onyedikachi Chinedu is a poet living in Port Harcourt, Rivers State. He was the winner of the 2018 Kreative Diadem Annual Creative Writing Contest (poetry category); his works are published in Kreative Diadem and Mementos: An Anthology of Contemporary Nigerian Poetry.

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