By Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale:
Butterflies- Day 8
It always starts with a firefly
packed with the aesthetics of the night,
finding a skin to perch into goosebumps,
before a song stranded in the mouth of evening birds
locates your voice as memorial to voices in the head of broken boys.
& this is where my body runs into transition,
where you open your mouth & tenderness wriggles out of girlhood.
this is where I become a ship hoping your love paddles me to shore.
& I tell you, even the sea knows of your wit
how you open your mouth & laughter finds water.
it knows of your humour- the blue ones
where you call my name & joy covers the hole in my heart,
& your chuckle is just another place where waves are at peace.
It knows of the way you do the things you do,
how you talk into the moon about my darkness
& let dawn ferry me into the bosom of light.
Anike, I told the boys you are a perfect wife material
& they do not understand the lightening in my voice,
they do not understand we’ve been burning before fire finds a mother tongue.
© Olabisi Abiodun Akinwale