we would break the sky and welcome rain,
we would break mama’s heart
& sweep her tears into fire.
we would break a scythe
& pick up flowers.
we would tuck our bodies
into a mirror,
we would hide our desolation in right angles
& hold the sunset in our eyes,
carrying its brokenness
to the reflection of our body,
& we will find joy at that adornment
at a festival,
in the scattering of our bodies,
the shattering of glass,
wielding it into exile
like a desert cactus
before snuffing glamour
away from the cloning.
we would break mama’s heart
& sweep her tears into fire.
we would break a scythe
& pick up flowers.
we would tuck our bodies
into a mirror,
we would hide our desolation in right angles
& hold the sunset in our eyes,
carrying its brokenness
to the reflection of our body,
& we will find joy at that adornment
at a festival,
in the scattering of our bodies,
the shattering of glass,
wielding it into exile
like a desert cactus
before snuffing glamour
away from the cloning.
Olúwádáre Pópóọla is a poet or so he thinks, a student of Microbiology and a Sports Writer for a media company. He writes from a city by the rocks and longs to see the world without discrimination of any form. He is learning how images are made from words and his poems are up/forthcoming on Mineral Lit Mag, Headline Poetry & Press, Feral: A Journal of Poetry & Art, and ang(st)zine.