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Monthly Woes, 2023 | Poetry

Hollow baths stayed in for its clinical cold, spine will reach out to edges for comfort and lounge till it is so.

Legs spread while clenching tunnels as it wilts and breathes again and again.


Womb sore, arches sore, flesh sore, all are sore.


Body fit be stronger as it dey run dis ting regular

Body fit strong as it dey run dis ting regular

Dulling with yellow salves that leave the deepest stings and penetrate far through the existence of aches.


Chai! Aboniki you are god here


A million legs runneth through fibres, as they scatter they bring these cuttings, sharp, blistering, like bubbles with spirit being pumped; expanding inside till they're content.


In moments of popping, hissing away the fragments of air that consume your insides, a thin rod inserts itself in piercing through until it wants to stop. It quite enjoys this.


Falling, crouching, standing, crawling, lingering and gasping for a steady pace and air, until ready to return to former moments. Esu!


Streams of pink viscous, chunky strands, clumps, clots will run away down drain and do it over again. 


As they exit warm walls, there are reconciliations of hands and toes, love and woes of a being never quite manifested. A loss in a way of a little one who never got to call you Mama.


Maybe relief, maybe joy, maybe this is grace

But next month fit bring another one.

Oro yi kpo







© 2024 Tomilola Olumide, All Rights Reserved
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