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.