Blues of Grief
A poem is a only sonorous song in the mouth of a
Sonorous as the clinking sounds of a tuning fork in the
orifice of a well.
Clinking as the weightless knuckles of a widow’s
finger against a windowsill.
Weightless like the fingers of a clock, & only the body
knows its expiry date.
A clock ticks & a child falls into a grave misted as bed.
No one told him there were thorns beneath this layering
& inside a garden of emotions he went,
only to be punctured by the thorns.
Tonight, the tears oozing out my father’s eyes are
crystal clear like kitchen wares.
& beneath my mother’s pale & puffy eye is a sheaf of
crystal clear shadow.
But betwixt my teeth is a cleansing miswak.
I am washing the red of another loss off my teeth.
For a poem is the only song that washes grief off
Adesiyan Oluwapelumi, TPC XI, writes from Ibadan, Nigeria. He is the winner of the 2022 Cheshire White Ribbon Day Creative Competition & an Honourable Mention in the 2022 Starlit Winter Awards. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Kissing Dynamite, Icefloe Press, Lumiere Review, Eunoia Review, Asterlit, Visual Verse, and elsewhere. Find him on twitter @ademindpoems