The Exchange is the Weekly’s poetry corner, where a poem or piece of writing is presented with a prompt. Readers are welcome to respond to the prompt with original poems, and pieces may be featured in the next issue of the Weekly.
magnitude and bond by Chima “Naira” Ikoro
did i see this leaf or small car and think of you,
or am i always thinking of you?
when i hold your name in my mouth,
i drop my tongue into the bowel of my jaw
so i don’t suck too hard on calling you.
your love dissolves so quickly and i need it so i save some.
i tuck my passion away in my cheek and say
okay, no worries when i want to say
please don’t forget to call me back this time
because i never got to tell you what i really wanted
to say and i never do—i can’t get around to trusting you care
before you dissolve.
passionate people are so hard to come by, but it’s the only thing that can save us.
why be distracted by ego and circumstance? don’t yall wanna kiss and hug?
don’t yall wanna play a card game with your friends?
when can we hold hands again, don’t you need it?
i appreciate anything i desire and receive; food and partners alike.
of course i love you, i love everything—this is not a spectator sport.
there’s so much to hate, this should be the fun part…ain’t that obvious?
i look at you, whoever you are, whenever you will be, and i lose my mind.
in the meantime, i’m searching for your fire.
people used to build monuments just to say hey.
folks don’t even genuinely listen when their friends are speaking
without gazing at the light in their hands.
what about the sun behind my eyes or the one above my head
what about this leaf i saw that reminded me
how much i love and i wondered where it all goes
and when i can get some of it back. please
when you can, send it back changed. make everything you hold new.
you complain more than you kiss and hug,
and i withhold myself
from so much
now that i’ve seen what happens to a voice that travels somewhere
it will certainly be misunderstood. God forbid.
i cherish the time people give me, i know how much it costs.
each second you offer is a piece of your life, and we share them ‘
knowing the next is not promised.
why wouldn’t i hold everything i’m close to with honor?
i hope you never run out of things to tell me,
you remind me of every leaf—you are so special even when you are falling.
leaves do not dissolve even after being crushed.
i pray we can hold hands again soon even when you don’t call me back.
every story you tell me comes at the price of breath
that isn’t even yours to give, and yet
you choose to speak to me. isn’t that beautiful? how could i call you anything else?
Prompt:
“In what ways has the love you’ve received or shared transformed you?”
This could be a poem, journal entry, or a stream-of-consciousness piece. Submissions could be new or formerly written pieces.
Submissions can be sent to bit.ly/ssw-exchange or via email to chima.ikoro@southsideweekly.com