The Killing
by Goodnews Karibo
there is an abundance of sound, so I pull the glass door into the wall. I need not ignore the rust in the latch nor evade the pigment that furrows into my susceptibility. I am blessed with hands and hands alone, so I sing of the fork with silver teeth in the undergrowth. I unfold the map and watch out for the red corpse of the cockroach interlocked somewhere under the sun. I know much more than to question reason, to flinch at the sight of a reptile plump with desire, breaking away from the pellets of dust in its hindlimbs. what lies ahead, the mound of purloined flesh, buttresses the beauty petaled to contact. the opaque edge of the courtyard booth has made a way for the full view of the flowing dandelion, but there still remains something tugging at my curiosity. there is a blur thinning and thinning, a vein too small to make up for the lost ocean.
Goodnews Karibo is a Nigerian poet from Rivers State. His works have been published by Brittle Paper, Renaissance Review, Shallow Tales Review, etc. He is a Best of the Net nominee. He tweets via @slendergrass.