A Poem
By Nkwana Joshua
if I speak of circles
moving coiled inside my head
they will say I’m mad
if I speak of walls collapsing
in the dark
and another one smashing against my eyes
dusting my world
maybe shutting down my nostril
they will say I’m mad
if I speak of nothing
not because my world is dead
or there’s nothing else to say,
I would speak in a closed vacuum
and still, no one listens
I would speak to my blood
until my veins explode
until nothing is left to hang onto
until ropes offer a hand
and misplace my head for hand
and strip my breath
off my body
they will say it’s witchcraft
