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Till all that’s left is white space

A poem by Selina Nwulu from a new collection

I found my body parts at the
bottom of an editor’s bin

loose rinds of the lips
my mother gave me
a yanked tooth
the bridge of my brow
wilted laugh lines
shredded coils of hair
the scrunched petals of my nose
fistfuls of plump
shades of my skin
seeping out of the sides
until there was light, so much light
and I think:
this is an angelic death, isn’t it?
a slow smother
an obsessive throttle
a constant murder

Selina Nwulu is a writer and former Young Poet laureate for London with extensive experience of performing internationally and writing for commission. She is also a leader within the civic sector working across social and climate justice as an independent consultant.

This poem is taken from the superb anthology, Black Lives Matter: Poems for a New World, edited by Ambrose Musiyiwa and published by CivicLeicester in late 2020 (£9.99; 152pp).