feet submerged in green wetness of grass,

I’m thinking of how undone I am—

I, a pilgrim to beauty. there’s so much of it in this world,

so much to hunger for. just now, a butterfly smiled at me

and I died to rediscover sin all over again. tell me, God,

how you conceived the curve of a woman’s neck, the swell of her hips,

the glimmer of her eyes like water I would drown in willingly.

forgive me, father, for I have worshipped every passing grace,

every laughter that undresses me. forgive me,

for I have desired the fruit you made forbidden.

forgive me that I cannot let go of beauty—this endless thing,

this river spilling into another river, a body entering another body.

when I say I am lost, what I mean is that I want to love the world

until its bones gleam with music, until every shadow sings my name.

growing up, my father said the beautiful ones are not yet born,

that I should guard my longing, that I should become someone first.

father, look, I've waited like hunger at the mouth of a child,

and I swear, if beauty ever comes to me, I will fall on my knees,

open my mouth, and drink of its light until I choke

on the mercy of its skin.

Bio: Joemario Umana, Swan XVII, is a Nigerian creative writer and a performance poet who considers himself a wildflower. His works have appeared in trampset, Strange Horizons, LOLWE, Chestnut Review, Prairie Schooner, Isele Magazine, Orange Blossom Review, Frontier Poetry, Uncanny Magazine, Poetry Sango-Ota, Poetry Column-NND and elsewhere. He tweets @JoemarioU38615.