By Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale:
Butterflies- Day 11
A Museum of Grace
this poem starts with the gaps in your teeth,
-an open door to an endless abyss. my body fell into it
& became a seed pregnant with cities.
because love is a way to embrace things
that saved you from you & hands that held you
from butchering your image in grief’s name.
because when you came, it was quarter past gloom
& my heart was the ticking second on silence’s wrist
& your love is a form of light, light enough to float on my blood
& slit my skin open into a museum of grace,
& your love is a mirror with parted lips,
I look in your eyes & God giggles for the first time.
like art dancing on water, your smile is a storm at peace with the sea,
it planted itself in my head & grew into a moonflower.
Anike, take my hands, make yourself a samosa, eat & be merry,
walk with me, let sundown adore our hearts with fireflies.
lay softly on my shoulder & let me string your hair into a song,
this alto of my voice may not be of nightingales, but will
fill your body with wings & heaven’s fluffiness,
it’ll carry melodies across your heartbeat & not miss steps.
© Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale