A Poem By Hannah Edeki

January 13, 2024
1 min read

By Hannah Edeki
Friday, February 26, 2010.
The tremor stifles your large feet;
You are levitating, now you are flying high
But it’s all in your zany imagination
Along with the silvery blue wings on your back and the angelic halo
That makes you a martyr,
Like the porcelain saint
With the wicked smiley eyes
That darted across his mantelpiece
Landing on the floor as mere dust,
That you cried for days like his first child
With the floppy head and glazed eyes,
 Too weak to drain your heavy breasts.
Death struck him as an unwanted decree,
You mourn over shattered pieces
In shades of dust,
Geometric shapes that perforate
Thin air in pursuit of your mind,
You retreat to angular corners with your spirit in your pocket.
Sorrow has aged you
Into perishable fruit
Too bitter to savour,
Too ugly to touch.
It is buried in the furrows on your face
Laced across sagging breasts that no child has sucked
Thick lines defined in unwanted places
Eyes the colour of roasted almonds on a frosty day.
You hear his voice,
The smell of dung
Enveloping you like a sweet lullaby that lulls you to sleep
Collapsed in his arms
Like a broken doll
At rest with each stroke
Caressing your arms till red roses come forth
Intoxicating your dulled senses with promises
Packaged with blood; your blood.
You are levitating, now you are flying high
Away from blind arrows that pierce your heart
But it’s all in your zany imagination.
Hannah Edeki is an emerging poet and writer living in the United Kingdom.

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