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Thursday, July 18, 2024
good woman By Chinasa-Nnenna
good womani know what it is to breathe silently(i must hear the stroke of the hours)to chew until the food grows soggy, raven's farei know how to sit in stillness, a glaze fills my irisand i can soft speak for the glimmering glowworm.the old spider fo…
i know what it is to breathe silently (i must hear the stroke of the hours) to chew until the food grows soggy, raven's fare i know how to sit in stillness, a glaze fills my iris and i can soft speak for the glimmering glowworm. the old spider found me in the deep wood and with all eight eyes saw i am no good
i have bathed in the blood that pours from my apex i have eaten the body of a savior, melting under a spring sun i have held the book tightly in hands frozen on yellowed pages i have listened to stories from a mountain the winds beat me bloody but i make no foes at this ripe zenith if i must have food, i'll take ten rules
i have molted into a good woman sharp prongs ache for my feathers i have stood on shores, a golden locket refracting light from a distant sun my hands burn on a winter beach
i have slept on a cold floor, and dressed in black, i have watched the quiet gravestones as my children turn to dust sleeping in the wild womb of their new mother
i dream not, i wonder not i cascade and collapse upon myself my flightless wings flap encore yet i have not pressed for answers, nor just response
a divine pain– i am never spared my back burdened, my hands bruised my ghost bloodied
a heavenly eye spots a budding doubt a fatherly guide, who took what was mine who made me chase a love with a whip on my spine
he told me i was a good woman i eat limp dirt, and black birds raw the wild willow beetle stains my tongue sour blue i pluck dark hairs from my head and feel for blood long dried my teeth grow ruby red, my tongue dyes black
in the midnight madness, thunder claps i do not speak, i have not thought, i have not questioned i unscrew bronze nails from a creaking house they will bury me here beneath molding floorboards a bed of moss for a good woman's body … [i wish to sink to the foundation] [i wish to die] … no. no. no, i wish to be a good woman i am a good woman my muscles grow weak my bones clatter, brittle i am a good woman
i can't move i can't sleep i am a good woman
i can't eat i can't drink i am a good woman
i can't love i can't hate i am a good woman
i can't live i can't die i am a good woman
By Chinasa-Nnenna
Biography:
Chinasa-Nnenna is an Igbo poet, essayist, and orator. They have a marked interest in themes of consumption, death, the "other", ancestry, and the mystical. Chinasa has been published in The Chamber Magazine and The Blue Elephant Review. They graduated from Columbia University with a BA in Psychology. Chinasa is interested in filmmaking and portraiture using oil pastels. They self-describe as an emissary of sweet spellwork.
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