My grandfather’s body is an old play ground —
an abandoned creature in a courtyard
& a little old play thing for the midnight stars
listen to the burst of bird chirp on his old skull
sounds like sharp metals and porcelains
striking against themselves
His body is a dead oriole
a viscous substance trapped in a wooden coffin
& long forgotten some decades ago
& here is a broken boy —
an oyster gifting his body out
cooked and raw for old memories
susceptible like shark with fins ripped off
Does he even know his body is an
abadoned sandcastle swollen beneath the
foot of a graveyard
& birds cup themselves with his old hair?
Or is the sky a burial ground for old creatures
does the heaven hold everything
everything he has ever lost here?
By Jonathan Endurance
Jonathan Endurance is a piece of sweet dark (Nigerian) chocolate. He loves football and writes in a still room.