Ley Lines ~ Lukpata Lomba Joseph

‘When I was first brought here,

Those hallways were more beautiful

Than any palace…’—Merlin


Two lines stretched apart

And we fell through.

The Isle of the Blessed.


Shrouded by mist,

Pulsing with possibility and life;

The air never extreme

Which for rain had a little silver dew.


Your voice was a given,

Green checkered with the rise

Of a yellow sun as you

Whispered, almost voiceless.


I lay bare,

Tucked in the foam of your dreams

A newborn of cupid, pie-eyed;

It was our Isle of the Blessed.

Magic happens.

Who is impervious

To a flowing stream?


Four weeks later,

I’d learn there were no ley lines,

No magic, no island.


I’d learn your voice is red,

The crunch of metal on metal.

I’m the flotsam of a wreck,

Groping for breath in the dark.

No ley lines, no magic.


We only stretch far to drink,

Fall and rise again.

I’m only smaller,

Smaller and smaller

Than I’d felt

In your wide-spread arms.


You wore gloves while taking

My drunk body.

Now the true feel of your skin glares,

Rough as it draws lines

Of friction on me.



Lukpata Joseph is Nigerian. He is currently a student at the University of Port Harcourt and a part-time Software Development/Computer Programming instructor at Integral Computing and Research Center. His work has appeared in Jacar Press’ One, the Collidescope, South Florida Poetry Journal, Squawk Back Journal, and many more.

Photo Credit: Photo by Pixabay on Pexels

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