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!".
SENTINEL POETRY (ONLINE) #42
The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics...since 2002
MAY 2006 ISSN 1479-425X Editor: Amatoritsero Ede