i taste my mother’s sickness
in my mouth & analyze
the spittle:
(grief lies folded
in a woman’s hand)
what we’ve left behind
can be disturbing
can i touch your throat?
a pile of daylight composed
of many meanings
names emerge from the centre
of each thing love. butterfly
fields of daisies. mother
blood. moths are burning mid-flight
& you whisper folding into origami children
we name parts of our body after
flowers—we carry the dead like seeds
we carry our wounds like
orifices
i want to write a poem
that will have a woman’s
pulse inside
first verse: you get smaller as you lose your heart
second verse: shovel off the dirt of buried
memories—you should be tired of chewing
the same bones day in & day out
third verse: try holding your breath for infinity
fourth verse: each drop of love is like sunset
in the mouth of a stranger
last verse: spend less of life attached to absence
hook up a poem directly to your heart
Ojo Taiye was born and grew up in Kaduna. He currently lives in Agbor, Delta State. He is a poet, essayist, and teacher of tourism in Calvary Group of Schools, Agbor. His poems and works have appeared in journals like Kalahari Review, Brittle Paper, Glass, Tuck Magazine, Lunaris Review, Elsewhere, Eunoia Review, Lit Mag, Juke, PRAXIS, and elsewhere.