For Each Soul Unmade, A New Sky Beams By Iheoma Uzomba

For Each Soul Unmade, A New Sky Beams


Beneath a sun-cracked sky
a town thins into worship
for a god that caves
& hides in chests for temples.
A man stretches
between two walls, signaling
the length of time
it takes to commune with a god
too ugly to be seen.


Ahead of myopic dysfunction
mother snatches the light
in our eyes, buries them in her palm
beneath rows of talisman
just in case god forgets
that we– pilgrims without foot,
fishers trading boats, drained
of thirst half way through
a neap tide– are crouched still,
knees unearthing silt
in awaitance of a new sky.


This town, seamlessly drawn,
wears the heads of several men
hung out on poles like waist beads;
a contortion of likeness, image of god.
An overcharge of neon light
cleanses the night alongside
bees smacking through tents.
Knives cleave on the trot
& a man steps out to demystify
god; engineer a new sky.


Pulses hold, breaths seize
except ours– of course–
ours is a collection of petals
aligned in such linearity they pass
for pairs of teeth whitened
from tree barks.
We are honed into a circle,
the man’s feet, firm on a ladder.
We watch him weave the sky
into patterns for us
& we agree henceforth
to name him god.

By Iheoma Uzomba


Iheoma Uzomba currently studies English and Literary Studies at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Her works appear on Kissing Dynamite, the Dreich Magazine, Fact-Simile editions and elsewhere.

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