by Helen Gwyn Jones
I Know the Knive Scars Serrating Down Their Backs
Yesterday, I wrapped myself
into a prayer as I watched my
mother and father play gladiator.
No child should see this; but it’s
something they should witness.
How love bleeds when the sickle
yanks it off its root. The photo album
still looks perfect, and I come here to
pilfer a glance upon the lurid smile—
where it all started, before time slowly
turned my father into a nervous wreck.
I do this at night because father’s alopecia
keeps getting worse, and a reminder
of his youth could incite a whooping.
Sometimes I feel my head is no longer
here, and if everything goes south mother
is not to blame. Her body a wilting flower
enclosed in the traipse of a uniform body,
that I am afraid it might be the only
wreath she gets. Sometimes I wonder
if she knew I knew her darkest hours;
just sitting there—waiting, with a bluebird
in her heart. Wanting a home other than
what this squalor has to offer. The tincture
of her voice stabbing the wind reminds
me of falling rose petals, enough to make
boys with dreams return home. But still,
father’s touch burns bright and it must
mean the whole world to him that I wasn’t
handpicked with a hand full of aces. I am
careful that should I fall into the cusp
of a reaching hand, I would be a thorn,
pricking every soft balloon which inflates
me a home. So when we pose those drab
family pictures, I don’t smile because I know
the knive scars serrating down their backs.
Prosper Ìféányí is a Nigerian poet. His works are featured or forthcoming in Brittle Paper, Lumiere Review, Identity Theory, Aothen Magazine, Petrichor Journal, Eremite Poetry, New Note Poetry, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and elsewhere. He is the Editor-in-chief of OneBlackBoyLikeThat Review and First Reader for Khoreo Magazine. Reach him on Twitter and Instagram @prosperifeanyi.
Helen Gwyn Jones (she/her) started recording her world at the age of 8 when she bought a Brownie camera from her sister, something which has become a lifelong passion. A collector of the past, she likes nothing better than muted images of imperfection. May be found poring over Welsh grammar books when not photographing drains or going into raptures over rust. Originally from Wales, now living in Spain. Recent publications include Hungry Ghost Project, Free Flash Fiction, Acropolis Journal, Paddler Press, Blink-Ink, Hecate, Pareidolia, Moss Puppy, The Levatio, Camas, Subliminal, Terse. Instagram and Twitter: @helengwynjonesFacebook: Helen Gwyn Jones Photographic Artist