By Jasmine Anderson
You’ll shiver blue
blue like church ribbons
protruding tongues
unfurling from
the ceiling’s mouth.
Women in
big black hats
brimmed with mesh and grief
The piano is an elephant
showing its teeth
A drum heralds a song about God
they say He is good
and that she was kind
yet purple anemones bloom
from her hallow skin.
Soon, strangers will come and
gather her body
in a jar you’ll never open.
There was a time
you’d nestle into her nakedness
now she’s undressed to the bones
You cover your eyes.
About the Author:
Jasmine Anderson is a poet and playwright from The Bahamas. A National Arts Festival awardee for classical monologue dramatization, they have performed works by James Catalyn, Nicolette Bethel, and Valicia Rolle. Their poetry explores themes of femininity, family, and loss, delving into the intimate and unspoken. They serve as the president of UB Theatre and are currently pursuing a degree in English at the University of The Bahamas.