by Joshua Effiong
it’s morning in my heart
& tender buds have begun sprouting
from my sternum, their lips running
towards the sun for a kiss. but the owls
are still here contesting for light, too.
among all of life’s precious things,
i only wish for a softer ache;
to be whole, even in my shattering,
to still possess the vibrance of an echo.
at evenings, i anticipate
the arrival of fireflies. to catch,
& rub them on my skin;
an attempt to glow in the dark.
these days i’ve resorted to dreaming
with my eyes open.
it is the safest way to enjoy
life’s vanities before i disappear.
at the end of time, this is how
i want to remember myself: as ash;
as a tender ruin; as an artifact of everything
that was; a broken Japanese mug
mended with gold.
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