Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
a congregation I never meet There are times my fingers get picky with food. A spoon poles and rubs my teeth and They gear each other and make words forget position. Boredom gets bored When news pay homage to me at media joints and a congregation I never meet Come forth and go hungry and nourish their hands. I don’t leave anything. I cursor with some people Who like to cursor others, Who leave their own grimes after quenching on someone else’s business.. Shame leaves me And I bend like some other backs That sound their tongue over trivialities. There are times my lips refuse to spread On their own. Someone else’s business isn’t always worthwhile and denies me sound to echo. Like the nights affection escape meaning from me. I act two roles in one scenario and My fingers abolish the right to speak. I become the judge and advocate. I try to think I don’t leave any mark. Air whips sympathy out of me when I see grimes that leave footprints on devastation And I cursor by like there is nothing my hands can do about other people’s hands. Empathy is I’d rather walk in your shoes Than remember bodies walk lines on sands. I like to think Treading in shoes without leaving my hands behind lightens my sins.
*Media joints e.g twitter
Fakoya Salamot is a 17 year old female poet writing from Texas. Her recent work was published in Riverbird magazine.