ellis ophele
when i tell the boy about the time i tried to drown myself
He answers: Everybody gets sad.
It’s a matter of perspective.
I said: No, no, I am not sad.
Sadness is un-useful.
It’s a wasted day.
I said: Some nights the sun forgets to sleep.
I am the sun.
I am the bloom on the back of my neck,
I am that metallic smile.
The ground turns black & burning & I walk it barefoot.
I said: I am trying to make my body a church.
I want to be something that’s never cried.
Most days, being sad is just so sad, & I’ve done enough of that.
I want to be something that isn’t afraid of the dark.
When I was small, I took communion in the kitchen.
I prayed night after night & nobody saved me from this wildness,
so I became my own god.
I climbed onto the roof,
wine bottle clutched in my soft fingers,
& swallowed the moon like it was a tiny bird,
bones & all.
I said: I saved myself.
Look at the way I shine now.
I said: Look at these new teeth.
& I ate him too.
Ellis Ophele is a Northland-based sixteen-year-old poet who writes about grappling with gender, trauma, chronic illness, and the spaces between. He is taking university classes in the study of medicine, and spends the rest of his time caring for 16 pets and 75 plants.