(after taiye ojo)

the other day                we mistook sunflowers for nightingales         mistook

bodies lost in the abyss of a river        for debris         in between

the conversation with the road we called mirage a dream

at river wadi —           shadows scrawled into the walls

                                                                        the night stilled for  broken boys

            carrying the fructification of their father’s wounds     &

when language became what we wore inside our mouth as the distance

undressed grief in our knees

dreams became mirage

                                    the boys rushed into the river

the boys died in the river

                        the river washed their sins

their country did not come for their bodies

                        their countries did not know they left 

© Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau

Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau writes from a place of memory, explores loss, absence, godhood, and boyhood. He is on twitter as @adedayoagarau.