"It Is Winter, I Had No Choice" by Israel Okonji

the irregularity of 

monotonousness   is now   absorbed.

the obduracy   observed from white

paper that was

glued to its kind did not surrender

to make a pretzel of a wasp.

but I saw a

swallow tail catching the air,

persiflaging me. it knew how I

missed it.

the silence on the refectory grew into

my lips like lava salvaging itself till

it became

obsidian. & with a chest of choices,

I stand, looking at a fjord of my

doctor’s

prescriptions. It felt like winter

when I felt the recesses outside my

thighs:

sideways, green. if a year was to pass

without this stimulus, it would /

should

be parthenogenesis. the streetʼs

greenness turns into chips for the

conquest

of the feet. from the generosity of

deciduousness, the streetʼs greenness

breaks

with a sweet sound. consistently.

the season could be an appendage to

a hole of

memories. it scars everybody with a

part song; pectoral scarring —

precarious.

& when the season goes, it would be

like cowering a human artery & letting

the ownerʼs

shadow mix with the still wind without

disrupting any light. the earth is now an

 intolerable

interstice, blurred.

Israel Okonji (He / Him) is a Southern Nigerian artist of poetry, storytelling & music. He is published @ Brittle Paper, Bruiser Magazine, Midsummer Magazine, Wasteland review — & forthcoming ones @ Hiraeth zine, & Querencia Pressʼ anthology. He listens to music ranging from Nas, the Wu-Tang Clan to Chris Brown, Alicia Keys. He hopes to fulfill his dream of collecting records like Craig Kallman. He has a special place for Brit actress Emma Watson & American singer / dancer Normani in his heart. He tweets @izrltrcz.