Akhim Alexis is a writer born and raised in Trinidad and Tobago. He is currently pursuing an MA in Literatures in English at the University of the West Indies, St. Augustine. He also collects books, some which he may never read.
You take it for granted when the moth caresses light.
A reluctance to release yourself from the clutter of darkness.
Artificial illumination disturbed by wings deposit mental flashes of rebirth.
We walked to a cathedral for spiritual exercise,
and now all water is holy and all liquid now water.
The keskidee punctuates our steps while the blackbird feeds on observation.
Owls haunt as praxis.
You find solace in stillness,
so a moth you will shun while an owl you embrace.
The cathedral, now burnt, causes light once disturbed to resurface.
I take the long way home
past the sycamore tree occupied by helmeted hornbills,
past the gas station with one pump that hosts a man who won’t be moved,
under the bridge that swallows hope,
and spread myself butterfly at the site where you were killed
to centre myself with nature, to decentre myself from pain.
A revelation revealed is now a revolt.
Measure my contribution by the way words
crawl out of my tongue and onto the podium
and take no mercy on my subjects who heeded my words ex cathedra.
The sun will shower you with remembrance after the rain washes memorial for renewal.
As my robes are rid, I step into the fire/consumed.
Let there be no movement and withhold all judgement
until my reverence is revoked
and foster no new enemies when I fall.
The wind will send all declarations of war against me
back to the throats of rhetoricians whose words were armed for slaughter.
my return is in the making
new form/new body/new mind,
but the robe will remain.
The day of my remembrance
to the site of ritual contestation
how my body will be received by the earth
and my spirit to the gods.
Let it be understood that
speaks in tongues and is measured in chakras.
Allow me to forfeit moral alchemy
so my deeds can be written
before my last breath .
From the Editor:
We hope that readers receive In Parentheses as a medium through which the evolution of human thought can be appreciated, nurtured and precipitated. It will present a dynamo of artistic expression, journalism, informal analysis of our daily world, entertainment of ideas considered lofty and criticism of today’s popular culture. The featured content does not follow any specific ideology except for that of intellectual expansion of the masses.
Founded in late 2011, In Parentheses prides itself upon analysis of the current condition of intelligence in the minds of these young people, and building a hypothesis for one looming question: what comes after Post-Modernism?
The idea for this magazine stems from a simple conversation regarding the aforementioned question, which drew out the need to identify our generation’s place in literary history.
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