Two Poems by Pamilerin Jacobs


bones frail, light as a thread
every time i cough
a vein snaps, organs splinter.

call me a catacomb, i hold death
in my mouth like an oath.
to kiss you, is to suck out your soul
as marrow from bone.

skip with me, this existence
of half-eaten breaths.
pry open your ribs with a crowbar
when you see me
being lowered into the ground.
no libation, more sacred than blood:

your heart is a mirror
faster than it can eat light

the last stage of grief
is rust.




with you, i sit wilting


because a tear is the numbing agent of the heart
a pronunciation of stillness, not everything that breathes lives

& because gasping is the mouth’s way of churning
chaos, your sentences are errors swimming
in the mouth. your life is a bomb exploding slowly,
shrapnel beating its way into the skin of a lover

here’s the miracle of blame: take one, breathe
upon it, & it breaks into seven, into seventy… ‘tis
the mystery of misery, how the body is a factory
manufacturing its demons

here is true communion: two souls made of water
seethe, disappear into the bosom of distance
tongues braided in a kiss, like ropes: a knotty prayer,
naughty pleasure, a treasure of nothings…

we run into orgasms
to forget
to wilt
to become fairytales dipped
in saltwater, changing taste…


Pamilerin Jacob is a young poet & mental health enthusiast. His poem was shortlisted for the Ken Egbas Prize for Festival Poetry 2017. He is the author of Memoir of Crushed Petals (2018). Pamilerin is a sucker for chocolate ice cream & Khalil Gibran.

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