EDGE OF PARADISE BY TIMOTHY FAB-EME

How did Moses feel on Mount Abarim?




Inhale my pain; exhale half-truths. Imagine sitting


still at the edge of paradise while






those who broke your door last night


walk to God, kiss his thick lips


and wave at you like an ex-sexmate.






Slowly peel the bark of your mind


with the prophet's sweat until your heartbeat


becomes the busting breath of young girls


shedding their names on a monk's loins;






until you congealed into cerements of hope


as Canaan rips off her satin pants,


showing him the contours of her insides.


Imagine being stripped twice in a lifetime


while the rapists dance to your crossroad-moans.






These wellheads, pipelines and oilrigs reveal what


it means to be loved by foes;


nothing grows in the Niger delta anymore:


we breathe in soot and belch out slick,


so I know Moses, for I am


sitting still on the edge of paradise.