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Two Poems – Roseline Anya Okorie

Reading Time: < 1 minute


Love grows in the evening 

Dies at dawn   

There is not enough prophecy about hearts

How it can become vapor 

                        Fighting for space in the sky

There are many kinds of light

 but the one in this poem has the color of 

A hole & takes over the night 

If you take away the pump in my chest

In the name of heartbreak

You will have roots in your hands

And a ditch in my soul 

Too deep

It will pull you in 

Purple is the color of loss

The sun disappears and leaves a reminder 

To say, I could take my light &

You will burn reaching for it

Call the only star in the middle of the

Night a survivor 

Or name it a convict

As I point my middle finger 

up without conviction. I cry with a mouthful of thorns 

Because grief is colorful – 

The redness of anger. The blue of the vacuum. The gold of disbelief. The brownness of the earth that devours 

I have never seen such mundane paleness 

A body swollen like full lips after sucking on grapefruit – purple 

How does the color of royalty become a cloak for death? 

I will kiss the gentian of your lips

Violently till

Your life starts resurfacing as hickeys 


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