SADDIQ DZUKOGI
Shattered A raven’s song echoes against a wall where the bark of a tree is a rough marble-face, a place to put his tongue so it says what needs to be heard. Nothing is sustained inside his mouth but stories, stories that deepen everything looking for light inside the raven’s mouth, steeped in the dense waters of morning. Sadness runs like a white horse deep into the gravity human eyes have never touched until it scratches the place where a soul is weak, where a flaw is most visible, where light fills his bones until light and darkness collapse into each other. The mind turns into a hem, a black hole where escape is a prayer that is never answered. Prayer is now the dark side of light, a night so impenetrable, heavy with a silence that tears the neighborhood, his skin, his entire body.
30
