spare the rod and spoil the god

A Poem

By Toyosi Salami

every year I gather all my failures,

drill a hole into the earth in my backyard

and disappear into the ground. sometimes I may leave a chain on the ground surface

so that I may be mistaken for a full god and pulled out,

sometimes I don’t care to.

people with half ichor half blood running through their leathery skin

do not fear death by any means because it will not come.

at the end of the day, death is one of us.

I am writing this to tell the world that in another universe, people like me are immortal.

in this one sadly, my failures are amplified, they are given more names than necessary

the disrespect makes me click my tongue.

mortals usually do not appreciate good things until they’re gone

they do not revere gods until they have drowned themselves.

my mother is also a mortal. however she is one of the scarce wise ones,

of course, that is why my father chose her, alongside her beauty and succulent bosoms.

I know this because I have once been two halves, one half of me was inside my father

and the other was inside her.

she sympathises with me and tells me she knows the name of my pain

she brings me ambrosia and rubs my head, smiles, and says

i know this will make you well again, eat

but

tiredness is very different from hunger.