Art!!!

DNA analysis show clay
in my body & it stretches

sometimes
it shadows other bodies

orbiting them/it
a fall of oranges; rotten teeth

yellow with sweet sour taste
sometimes

it orbits the sunflower time
&/or

the moon flowering nightmare
'time twas my body

fetal in iced cake rigor mortis
a sculpture

of used masks
for the gulags in me

gulag is a Nigerian word
I promise

art can be anything
a fruit tree by the swing

orange orange & green
perched hands

on dying soil
where clay once gathered itself

from rust
merge with the wind

this is how my body becomes art
I am

if all the books tongue-lashed
themselves in the wet

they will come together
a pulp machine

a papier maché
waiting for the creator's spittle

& dexterity
put on the light artist

make me a child again
from clay

teeth from paper
& put oranges in our mouths

what I say is
my body does not drain

& it means nothing
moulded by your hands..


clay-1139098_640.jpg
Pixabay



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