He turned over the final page of his life

and said, "this is my life", dear wife.


Night, this night of parting was dark,

the stars turned the other way.


I have seen wreaths, like garlands

of sorrow a widow adorns. 


The postman's drunk, letters will be late,

O night bear the widow's grief. 


2. For Ajala


The road spreads before your feet, like a wingspan.

Try catch the mirage to quench your thirst.


The road knows the footprints of a prisoner, fleeing.

Follow the birds, like leaves, follow the wind


to where the road overcomes the hyena

and the lame feels his silent bones.


Death lies on the armpit of the road,

a child's taking his first step, the hardest.


Wear these amulets.

Traveller, I bid you farewell.


3. Before I became a spinster...


Before I became a spinster, again,

I was someone else's wife.


I knew the path to my husband's heart

but grief o grief has found me out, at last,


and the fire long gone I live with the ashes.

Take a look at me, glimpse my wedding pictures


and see how happy I was,  and how I look now

as the priest washes his hands off me


and I become, again, the spinster whose heart hurts

whose eyes are like the ocean, full of tears.


4. The Moment We Slipped...


The moment we slipped underneath our duvet

night, oblivious of our presence, closed it doors


and we sang the slow rhythm and blues of our flesh

the clock's hands clapped in counterpoint


across the hips of the night

only the hand could span the measure of.


It was in the heat of the moment,

we weighed love on our finger-tips-


'alphabets of touches 

press letter O to our lips'-


night took no notice.

Elsewhere, a monk prays, "forgive their sins, Lord!".    



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The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics...since 2002

MAY 2006  ISSN 1479-425X    Editor: Amatoritsero Ede