Amnesia as First Aid Kit
grandpa’s lips are always moving, praying.
panting after silence. he says breathing is
a type of hunger; he is tired
of its pangs & sits facing the window, daily
waiting his turn. last of his friends,
he speaks only to angels now. at a funeral,
he lifted hands when the priest, with sarcasm said, who’s next?
grief will do that to you.
the year I lost Tessy—my dog—I became a cat person. amnesia
is how we handle loss in this house…
death is a type of amnesiac spell,
I crave it too grandpa.
Pamilerin Jacob is a Nigerian poet & mental health enthusiast. His poem was shortlisted for the Ken Egba Prize For Festival Poetry 2017. Author of Memoir of Crushed Petals (2018), Gospels of Depression (2019) & Paper Planes in the Rain (Co-authored, 2019); he is a staunch believer in the powers of critical thinking, Khalil Gibran’s poetry & chocolate ice cream. Reach him on Twitter @pamilerinjacob
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 