BY ABDULBASEET YUSUFF
Aura
No being knows true silence
We are born sound conjurers
& even in death, we clasp
song religiously like heirloom
Sound is wave weaving chaos
on the body of air, ergo
every breath is subtle song
& an exudence of aura
With you, I interpret every aura:
in your laughter are flowers
bright yellow in bulbous bloom
& in your malice, a monophonic
music, an open wound as
hollow as hieroglyphs carved in
a cavern. I trace it tentative
with the finger of an archeologist
When your music starts to spike
on the electrocardiogram like
riot beside your supine body
I put pause to my breath
in reverence for your outro
When I heave, the flood breaks
the bank of my eye & I start a
soulful song for the departure
of the last wave washing the
residue of music off your throat
When it rains, it is not rain itself
that liquefies me into quietude;
it is the tenderness of the fluting wind
this melody is the madeleine that
exhumes the malady of grief. O wind,
away with you, sing me no more
Abdulbaseet Yusuff is a Nigerian writer. His works appear or are forthcoming in Brittle Paper, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, MoonPark Review, Kalahari Review, Burning House Press, Rising Phoenix Review, Memento: An Anthology of Contemporary Nigerian Poetry, and elsewhere. He's on Twitter: @bn_yusuff.