1. when do the dead eat?
on thursdays
the day he slept
& never had to sleep again
2. what do the dead eat?
he feeds on alms
in form of salts & clothes
& grains & prayers
but his soul does not
have a body when
dead.
but his soul is a glass,
a whiff of wind, undulating,
masking itself in the din,
piping into my ears
as if to exchange
pleasantries
3. how do the dead eat?
like creatures.
he comes to me
in labyrinths.
the marabouts
i gift his clothes,
little children
gathered for offals,
beggars with pints
of salt, birds feeding
on scattered grains.
he assumes a state
of anonymity,
like abstractions, like
everything-god-you-
can’t-see.
4. where do the dead
meet the living?
silence is the path
where i see my father
sculpted in air.
in cackles of wind,
in birdsongs,
in fluttering of leaves.
in gatherings where
every child hugs their
fathers & i have none.
5. how do you separate
the dead from the living?
sadly,
the sun does not
find my father
a worth to shine on.
