Isabelle Baafi

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Chiaroscuro

ask me       about my first crush       my brother piling sand on me       till i couldn’t breathe       he gave me a hammer       i didn’t use it       but       i took its power       son rise       son threat       son drinks       the rain that pools       in collarbones       mother’s hands       raking my scalp       yesterday       i pressed her sponge to the lake       to clean it       now the lake is gone       it is easier to lasso the moon       than to help your father       lay down to die       but what if       the tomatoes never went bad       what if splinters       are a warning to run       i once found a ransom note       in my ear       the face in the photo was mine       i pawned everything       went to the drop-off point       no one ever came       to set me free       give me a bed       with no crumbs in it       pluck the fishbones       from my throat       i forgot where i hid       the matches       and after that       it was easier       just to live in the dark

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ISABELLE BAAFI is the Reviews Editor at Poetry London. Her debut pamphlet Ripe (ignitionpress, 2020) won a Somerset Maugham Award and was a PBS Pamphlet Choice.