into bodies
september is leaking again and i step into the noise;
gutters roaring with the chorus of crashing water.
there is a wall of clouds over the hills that limns
rumors of a sad sky; the city is a veiled bride.
i watch bodies scramble into custard-colored keke and
danfo, some holding umbrellas, others taking solace
under parasols or empty shops, a little girl splitting
coal quickly prepares herself for a journey of warmth.
there was no place for you to run into but yourself: a
building set ablaze by flames once warmth and light.
at the bus stop, a man rinses his hands off iniquities
in a puddle of reddish water; you once said that
absolution favors the bold; those strong enough not
to fracture under the weight of their grief. the muezzin
calls for the salāt al-fajr, his voice searing the remains of dawn as i watch the faithful hurry into the body of their
god, their burdens dissolve like sleet but you carry
yours even when god stretches his hands to accept them.
is there any redemption in your suffering? will there
be a moment to count teardrops, petals, and scars?
the sun thrusts through the clouds and everything
becomes gloriously blemished, even your body.