DELTA.
By Roseline Mgbodichimma Anya Okorie
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On some nights, the well in my eyes dries up. The pendulum on my chest stiffens. There is an ocean of desire streaming in my brain - this is how I strip myself of caution. My body goes missing when I touch myself, disappearing into the brim of darkness. I am a miner in a body where there is only brown, where there are tiger stripes and pigment, where there is texture, where there is chime. I dig deep to find velvet, then recite my ululations as psalms. In this body that is both refinery and swamp, every finger is industry. I reach deeper and I can feel the crossroads, the lamp holding of eggs that can break into a delta. I am made of saltwater, a house that lives in a home, a home that houses the living, a room that expels into a lagoon. I am always thrusting at something, opening for something, reaching something. I build bridges in utopia by poking my follicles like rake on snow. I could be floating here, but my body is drowning in Libya.
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My whole existence is an escape; I made my way through my mother’s cycle into the alchemy of the world. They say if I can invade myself, then the earth has access to take what is left of me. So I say come to me all you labourers for my thighs are a bountiful harvest. Come let us reap this shame you have sown.
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My body is a temple and there is no altar for anyone to prey in. I live wild - freedom is a whimsical thing & the astronomy of my being has only space for meeting the sparkles of desire.
Roseline Mgbodichinma is a Nigerian writer whose works have appeared or are forthcoming in Isele, Native skin, The Hellebore, Serotonin Poetry, West Trestle Review, X-ray lit mag, JFA human rights mag, Serotonin poetry, Blue Marbel Review & elsewhere. She won the Audience Favorite award for the Union Bank Campus writing challenge - Okada books, she is the third prize winner for the PIN food poetry contest and a finalist for the Shuzia Creative writing contest. You can reach her on her blog www.mgbodichi.com