by Abu Bakr
Pedalling to Heaven for Self-isolation
After the night my grandma’s daughter was buffed
in earth. ‘Ma gave ears to walls and sowed her voice
in them. no one knows how long she wringed silence
by the neck until a dialect towered from its mouth
She wedges between the hugs of armchairs – her hands
flailing like cities where women bury grief between breastbones.
the color the sun undresses the sky with will always be dark
in her eyes & words to her ears run off like rain on hilltops
‘Ma speaks with her whole body without making a sound:
holding a fist to her mouth means stop speaking of the undead
her indexes tongue kissing says my near end smells like peace
she says every prayer with her middle fingers tickling the ground
her arms x-ed on her chest says I’m breaking into loneliness, again
she pedals an imaginary bicycle in the air to say I’m going to heaven for self-isolation
Ear pressed to a wooden door, I listen to the calmness
of her sobbing. My teeth dig my index to shroud
the betrayal of my tears. Holding her hand sometimes
is where I hear a memory calling her body home
Self-Portrait with Blindfolds
To every city serenity opens itself; I open with it in my head
The weight of the quietude I yearn leaves my body unlettered
In my thoughts, a boy asks for a poem to cloak his [ ]
I ask the night to cover my [ ] ; the sky closes its ears
To this, I gloss my lips with every prayer I’ve drowned in books
At night, silence hangs on street walls like bats on oak branches
Outside, faces behind vizards are darkening into cloudless night skies
I lay in bed all day like hugs from strangers will leave an RIP in my ribcage
This is the ninetieth time I’ve thought of stepping out today but didn’t
Here, the world feels less like a forest leaning into an inferno
On TV, an unmasked woman hugs the ground like it’s the ghost of her husband
Everyone clutches their mouth as if to stop the world from tumbling into its end
I pull a blindfold to my eyes and the world spins to this liberation
Through the blinds, the city’s eyes close into a dream; I sleep with it
Abu Bakr Sadiq is a Nigerian poet, studying at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. He has work published/forthcoming in Lit Quarterly‚ Rockvale Review, Iskanchi Press & Magazine‚ Knight's Library Magazine, The Muslim Write and elsewhere. Find him on twitter @bakronline