Self Portrait by Sanna Wani
what if it’s not a body it’s a net what if blood is blue what if it’s asking for something
to catch on what if the blue is not like the blue that lingers in corners of my dreams
what if that scares me what if my body is a dream that does not scare me what if I am
not so unlike a fish in how I live in it what if my dreams are an ocean I call my blood
what if their weight is why my veins are so dark and swollen what if this is why I am so
thirsty all the time what if this is why my body hides in the water so what if I pull a roar
clean from my throat so what if I come to know thunder as my enemy what if I fear the
storm not because I am afraid of it but because it will wash away my secret there on the
ground there is my secret there is my body there is the island where I sit inside myself
here is the sand each grain is a memory meanwhile my body lays motionless beside
me prayer strained from salt that piles up on the shore I am gathering my body on the
shore I am gathering my body I am burying my body a short wall to protect the shape
my memory this island I am only allowed to visit I am not allowed to stay here are my
flickering hands too heavy here are my flickering hands soaked in dreams other dews
I cannot stop washing them I cannot stop gathering a mountain accumulates I want to
climb it one day I want to gather my body in my arms carry it up the slope offer it to the
sky by then my skin will be a shell the wind will stir I will build an altar in the swash I
will leave my hands like two bleached crowns I will borrow from my body for a moment
and I will sleep I will dream against my blood lapping at the sand the waves I will listen
to my eyes like two fat pearls I will leave one in each curled palm a shrine I will climb
I will climb I will become a god I will not mourn as good gods do I will grant a wish at
the summit my body will be waiting there my body will be waiting there I will unlatch one
last prayer from our chest it will cut the sky and disappear in the horizon this island will
break this mountain will crumble I will dive mouth first off the cliff and scream at last
at last let me go let me go let me join my ghost who waits for me in the water
This poem was featured in Issue 07 of Canthius.
Sanna Wani lives in Toronto. She loves daisies.