Some ghosts we keep
close to our hearts.
Even if our hearts beat
the frenzied beat
of raven wings
against a cage made of glass.
You’re one such ghost, my love.
Sometimes I wonder if you were ever real,
if you marked your shadow on the protesting earth,
or let your sooty breath etch its name
on the grime of speeding train windows.
But perhaps you’re real even now,
even if you’re just sweet melancholy
foraging forth from the darker valleys of my mind.
Somewhere in my allotment of Faery, I take your hand
and if I have courage enough to close my eyes,
you’ll have me sit in the little black boat that is Death.
About Ijagun Poetry Journal
Ijagun Poetry Journal is a quarterly journal that provides a platform from which we can tell our own stories in the authenticity of their multiplicity through the poetic medium. We don’t want to hear these stories from our master “griots” alone; we want to hear from those mastering their art, too. Hence, we aim at publishing new and emerging poets. We also welcome the works of established poets in order to encourage the poetic genius of those mastering poetic art. We prize original works that conform to, break or reinvent conventions. Again, we accept reviews and critical essays on poetry. We also accept powerful art works and photographs that make us appreciate the "poetry" in everything.
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