By Owolusi Lucky
You can keep secret of hurricane
Behind a neatly ironed suit.
I gave, you took.
Many things, exhausting.
You gave me a shell to paint.
I folded myself in a card, you kiss it, burnt it,
Blow the smoke into promises.
Night passes quickly.
Emotion to you comes in season.
Snow fell, your footsteps faced north, or south,
Or to that thigh thicker than mine.
The one you named after all your hobbies.
I water the pot, they bloom, and whisper,
“Water yourself.”
I remember as a lil girl my mother
Said I was made of flowers, I can bloom.
She patted her round belly.
I’ve shed old leaves, left your greenhouse.
If you return, please water the plants.
They are wise.
About the author:
Owolusi Lucky is a Nigerian, he writes poetry, fiction, and non fiction.He has published or has work forthcoming in Noctivagant press, Crosscurrent, America Diversity Report, Afrorep, Decolonial Passage, Arkorewrites, Hallowzine, Scars publication, Sweety Cat Press (Poetry Anthology), Macromicrocosm, Dietmilkmag, Collegevilleinstitute, Overtly Lit, A Solarpunk anthology and others.
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Twitter:@mighty_scribe
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