Suffocation

When I was seven, my aunt told me
How my grandfather had died
The previous night
In the blanket of hospital grey
Wrinkled nails clawing the air
Flesh convulsing
Mouth yawned open like a fish’s
For oxygen
I nodded my head and
Continued playing with my goldfishes
The oldest opalescent one
Was almost dead
It bobbed along the scum-stained rims
Its bloodied, awkward belly grazing against
The frostiness of the night air
So I prayed to God for him to take
My goldfish to heaven when it dies
And perhaps
Bring my grandfather down to earth again
Conveniently, at the same time
But my grandfather remains cold as
A granite-sculptured doll
In the sealed rosewood box
Which I tried unscrewing
To press my skin against the burning warmth of his blotted forehead
But my aunt slapped my wandering fingers
Called me a pesky rascal when I said
My grandfather’s bosom was heaving just an hour ago
With ripples quavering like a wing of a half-crumpled butterfly
So I slept beside my dying goldfish
And prayed to exchange my life with his
With my skin
Grazing against the
Raw, crystalline terrain of unfamiliar air
Until I breathe, in the fiery fondness
Of his wet lilies eyes
Reverberating through
The once-axis of our universe,
again.

One off submission- Annabel Ngien