Blemishes
How do you spell grief when you are rammed
in the neck by the butt of a shotgun loaded with
betrayals as bullets? All I could do was scrawl
pain into empty air and watch them splatter like
sheep blood, with each drop jetting out to unknown
distance. That was how I came to realise that you
can never see it all until pain befriends you. I now
know all it takes to walk round a garden of thistles
and shake off; unbruised. My father once pinned my
pet cock to the ground with a knife to its neck for Easter.
Now my body has morphed into feathers, beak and
claws — weakened and threatened. The pain that
accompanies betrayal stuck to my skin like a blemish,
ignoring every plea to wash away.
Contributor’s Bio
Igbokwe Roseline is a Nigerian medical student in her penultimate year and a creativewriter who has works published in Kalahari Review, Brittle Paper, Eboquills, World Voices Magazine, Writers Space Africa, Arkore Arts, the Moveee, Icreative Review, The Moveee, Ta Adesa, Shuzia Anthology, SAP Anthology, Poetik City Africa, Stripes Lit, Arts Lounge, etc. She was shortlisted for the Labari Prize For Poetry, BKPW prize, Shuzia prize; longlisted for the Wakaso Poetry Prize For Female, DKA Annual Poetry Prize; winner of the Poetree IWD Spoken Word Contest; winner of Hera Marketing, Gemspread, New Cheese Academy and Challenging The Writers writing contests. She’s on Instagram @igbokweroses and X @IgbokweEzinne
