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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