Self Portrait

Kamau Nosakhere || Fall 2024

I am
That pair of headsets
Smelling of coconut oil
Waterlogged twice
Twice stuffed in rice
Torn and ripped
Tattered and stripped
Pads replaced
And replaced
And
And
And replaced
Volume slowly going down
With each satisfying click
Of disappointment
The volume up button
Smells of coconut
Waiting one day to be
Replaced and replaced
And replaced
And
Re pl
aced
a n d
r e pl ced
And re pla
Ced
And repl aced
And replaced and replaced

I am
The vanishing sticker on a hydroflask
Dancing as the plastic lifts up
Smiling as my protection washes away
My pink and green
Going white
Losing my magic
Holding onto my smile
As it’s wiped from my face
I have seen other stickers
Get clawed away
Useless
After having their color
Striped from them
A white shadow
Of what they once were
I am a smiling, dancing, magical frog
Watching my pink and green
Go white

I am
Crystals
Rocks in the sun
Glistening on a windowsill
Enjoying the warmth
Fearing the impending cold

I am
A star
Hot and gassy
Alone in my darkness
Sending heat in any path I so choose
Scorching those that cross me
Red with rage
Blue with passion
Dead before you know it

I am
Nothing
For I am
Fleeting
A feeling
Of the past
A memory
Of a fantasy
A tear now dry
On the cheek
Of history

The sound of the wind as it blows through the
cane fields of Barbados on a cool evening in
January as the sun dips into the trees and sea,
painting the sky purple and orange around a
cinnamon moon being chased by bats and
flying ants that smell of pine needles as light
rain falls diagonally

That’s me

P.S.

The crickets fucking in the bush
That’s me too