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Issue 36 · Autumn 2024 · poetry

Shattered Souls at Heaven’s Gate

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because we loved our country

& it did not love us back:                            the night we died

at the gates of heaven

we dragged our feet like soldier ants                     & walked

like devils on our way to heaven                       we wore tattered clothes

& the angels

laughed at us for coming from                    a crooked country

we carried the holes

our country dug inside the skin of our bones

& fresh bullets fell        from

their mouths       like hot yam         you said we looked dirty

& i laughed

aloud        like a rooster       & declared that we looked exactly

the way

our country wanted us to look        you tore my flesh apart

to see the ruin

that my inside had become      &        i opened the gates of your eyes

to see

the extent of the flourish      of your blemish            you said

you were grateful

for the impacts your country had      on your body          & because

it did not

shatter you as a whole             but only crumpled your intestine

& i threw

my tongue         against the gates of heaven          & threw

my palms to a distance

to worship the creator         for shattering my flesh          & for

remolding my heart

into pieces          you said we did not live enough on earth

but i said it was

not my wish to die together          with the body of our country

you said

we did not love the country enough          but in what other way

can you show love

again        if you have already offered your body           we loved

but were

not loved      i took bullets for you          my country           because

i did not know

that you were the one         holding the rifle         i threw my body

into the fire

for your sake          ignorant that the source of the fire was you

you bombed

my skin          yet            i enjoyed the fondness of the furnace

& although

we were tired           we walked          as if we conquered the world

when we reached

the gates of heaven         we met you at heaven’s gate       holding

a rifle &

throwing its breath            into the holes          of our nostrils

& still walked to you

Ayòdéjì Israel, a poet, writer and editor, is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Channel Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Deadlands, Ake Review, Defunct Magazine, OneArtPoetry, Sandy River Review, Whale Road Review, Nude Bruce Review, The Bitchin Kitsch and elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter @Ayo_einstein.

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Ayòdéjì Israel
Ayòdéjì Israel

Ayòdéjì Israel, a poet, writer and editor, is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Channel Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Deadlands, Ake Review, Defunct Magazine, OneArtPoetry, Sandy River Review, Whale Road Review, Nude Bruce Review, The Bitchin Kitsch and elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter @Ayo_einstein.

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The Deadlands is a quarterly speculative fiction magazine exploring the theme of death. It has been twice nominated for the best semiprozine Hugo award. The Deadlands is published by Psychopomp.

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