One day we’ll be God. Till then
We paint the door that finally opens red.
The red door, god’s toenail, hollow & pebble-cold.
We knock until our blood is no longer a red dress.
We knock till we are only drumming with our knees.
Till time withers like the bones of breath.
From space our efforts at God’s attention is moth dust.
Brethren, there’s no crueler necromancer than the sun.
A mural of our lord says starlight is Angel piss.
And every moment of our lives is pee porn—
We reek of divine sewage.
Before we rust,
the ferryman, death, face of soap scum asks left or right?
And we know not the way to heaven: our own father’s house.
Sarpong-Osei Asamoah is a Ghanaian writer and postcolonial pundit. His work is forthcoming in and has appeared in Lolwe Magazine, Tampered Press Magazine, The Hellebore, IceFloe Press Magazine, at WriteGhana.com, Gumbo Press Magazine, Lunaris Review, Contemporary Ghanaian Writers Series Anthologies and elsewhere.