ANAMNESIS
Not aloud but audible, differently,
quietly wandering, glacial arrayed,
interior aurora, brine-winked.
Who gon cape for me,
my centripetal life, gathering within
to become smaller, more defined
clearer, but still, under
layers, blankets of weather
becoming climate that sends
living in a consistent direction.
Full of secrets.
Hidden chambers in the blood.
The staircase haunted by my own ghosts
that treat me lovingly, like a guest,
a family member from far away
still learning to speak the language
of revolving doors.
There is a meaningful click
in the minutiae; the clock stammer
of my guts as they mumble
their unique jargon
to me and me alone.
And I understand in patches,
bundles of maps in mind
that lead me where my cells
have already been
before I could realize.
Leslie McIntosh, "ANAMNESIS" from Obsidian 48. Copyright © 2022 by Leslie McIntosh. Reprinted by permission of Leslie McIntosh.
Source:
Obsidian 48
(Obsidian: Literature & Arts in the African Diaspora, 2022)