I slice my soles standing for a seaside photograph
i.
muted siren
lenses must widen
and yell on my behalf
my prince has forgotten me
and I am starved of words
I cannot speak of the myth,
cannot narrate his drowning
my mouth
is still hurting
for I have sold my song
to canny maligning streets
in prayer
he might heed
ii.
I sleep
in a room without walls
and welcome the winds to my bed
in a home
that is wrapped
around itself
yet filled with air;
a cyclic compound
coral in timber wound
plants show their crowns
on occasion
god smokes on the balcony
having decided to share his meals,
the guest finishes before him
then says:
girl
you should have set
a reminder
You cannot die from holding your breath
The hunter knows this
And so does the prey
Which loves all my pounces
All my sudden moves,
And the surprise of being wanted.
I corrode at his gumption
Confusing marinade
Of faith and seduction
Braiding my hair
Blessing my flair
In every chair
There is seated a stare
I content myself
With peeling his skin
With covering us
In the dust of his kin
Pulled back by scalp, I am beset
By the glisten of honey
dripping into ice
When the darkness sets in
I close my thousand eyes
And like grass
There is nothing
I hate.
masking for a friend
I lady lazarus then return
to my default skin
bearing
a firework display,
pain without pay,
and a couple small demons
my chest heaves and says ho
let us become the floor
walking out
into the stretching sabbath
I find the impala
the deer,
the sight,
and the seer
I wash away
their ash
and feed them
my hope
Jelimo is an anti-disciplinary artist whose work lies at the nexus of sight, sound and movement. Reach them on IG: @jelimo.birir