OMÓYE - By Ololade Akinlabi(Ige)
With her flab toes,
She murmurs her feet
With the colorful
dust,
Goaled her
half-visible breasts
Beneath her elbows
But her
nakedness
Takes a disarray queue
on the retina.
Along the market,
Eyes fold arms
In dismay to watch
The nakedness of a
sensible lunatics.
She flings her
heavenly gifts,
Beautiful irritations
they are
But eyes consume more
like honey.
Maybe the flogging sun
could dry up her shame
But rather colours her
colorful colour.
The sunny wind raced
the clothes
To cover up her
bountiful shame,
But knife had cut a
child's finger
Before it was thrown
away in aggression.
Hence, clothes could
not clothe Omóye,
Omóye has trekked to
the market in nakedness.
Ololade Akinlabi(Ige)
© 2017
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