Prophet’s Knife by Dah

Space will not melt

into something more

this is all we have

a colorless juju


Salt of soil is delivered from

the sweat of birthing women

Jugs of thighs pouring forth

from dust

living constellations


Upon this earth

human stars rot

Each of us an offering

unbalanced, teetering

It started in Genesis


a prophet’s knife

cut the bone

and sliced the marrow

there was light

only for darkness to be

the contradiction


© Dah

The Opening

Excerpt from The Opening

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DahAbout the Author

A prolific writer and an awarding-winning photographer, Dah has been writing poetry for many years, and according to himself, he has not reached the degree of writing that he knows exists somewhere in his mind. Dah is working on his next collection of poetry.

Visit Dah’s author page

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