The Black Boy’s Effect
Agaphy, Ayouba, Aza, Bill, Cheto, Edouard, Edwin, Karn, Sunny,
a boy jumped into darkness
from a window that squeezed his
bones so tight.
he knew not to panic, but
today, his bones brought
an exam paper that his blood
knows nothing about
dear bijoux, I hope these
stanzas know nothing
about sickle cells, like you.
you grew your bones to thorns,
& fought the war on your tongue,
& say prayers for little things that
ate many things inside of you.
on the hospital bed,
we watched your prayers slipping off the ears of God into nothingness like how dry leaves jump out of their stalks during winter.
there are bodies you planted roses
& some you left with thorns;
my body is a garden of thorns.
good night, wits. sleep.
If It Is A Woman
open your eyes and creep behind your shadow
grow your bones to blood and dirt
learn how to lay your feet in her stomach &
how to lay it in her chest
breath in her body where the blood doesn’t stop flowing
take off your gold jacket, drop it to the floor
stand up, wrap your arms in her neck, hold
her down your body, & show nothing but yourself
but never stop standing
drag back one-step when she pumps in more carbohydrates
stay there when it’s protein
like a puzzle, plant every part of yourself to every part of her
erect your epitaph in her eyelids when her blood gets corroded
by little things that will destroy the large things inside of you
About the Author
Azaiouris Y Zeon writes from Paynesville, Liberia. His works have appeared, or are forthcoming in Spillwords, ArtsLounge, Eboquill, & elsewhere. He tweets @231Aza