Am I here?
Can you see me?
Here, let me stand on a table.
Now can you see me?
How about if I wave my hands?
Now?
If I grab that knife right there
and slice open my guts,
will you see me then?
How about if I command the
sun to speak the language of
the rain?
Drops of sunlight fall from clouds
of stardust.
will I be visible?
If I wash my feet
with the magic water
of Kinjikitile Ngwale
and kick up the dust of
the sands of time,
dragging the mud
all over the faces of
a people ejected
from their own past.
will they see me?
What if I break past
the guardians of their
selves and steal their
desire, replacing it
with broken shards
of nothing
causing them to
consume more emptiness
thus feeding the
void; creating an emptiness
that only expands.
will I exist?
Or must I speak
to Florence. The seven
devils all around us
dancing for their entertainment.
The exorcism of Emily Rose
was only a metaphor
for the exorcism of Emily Rose.
(do you see now?
We are nothing but versions of ourselves)
Then there are sentences
Then there are words
Then there is music
Then there is
but where am I?
Will I be there?
Or will there just be a metaphor
for where I am?
Can you see metaphors?
Can your eyes catch the light
just as it bounces off the last
syllable of a forgotten smile?
Single out the teardrop
that carries the story
that is too vast
to be constricted
by the idea of a language
that only has 26 letters?
Or do you imagine yourself
to be seeing images of
a presence that you have created
and given my name.
Programmed to such a degree
that it is unrecognizable
even to itself.
Thus the code begun to eat
itself and your vision reduced
to ideas of white noise and infinite
capacity.
Does my metaphor know
how to say please, thank you?
Does my metaphor affirm you?
Does it use a fork and knife at the table,
commenting on how good the wine is,
‘Sauvignion Blanc goes well with everything, they say.’
Does my metaphor talk about share capital and entrepreneurship?
Does my metaphor listen to the ideas of
nouns that I can barely recall?
Does my metaphor colour the heroes of your past in
Red, blue, purple, green and black?
Or does it remind you of their faults?
Does my metaphor believe in heroes?
Do you even listen to my metaphor?
Or is it just there to act as a seen presence
for an unseen absence.
Does my metaphor know how to disappear,
like I quickly learned?