By Olalekan Daniel Kehinde
on the head of green hopes nested
whits of weeds towering into empires;
small colonies carving circumferences
of warmth, bordered landmarks.
son, brave beaks formed these homes
with veiny bones from skeletal trees.
the birds, they sheathe themselves
with branched greens like an ambushed army,
they circumcise the fruiting apples
and leave dimples on their buttocks;
son, this is how you know that
they’ve been here before—mark the apples.
at times, they perch at the caving mouth
of your roof till the anger of heaven stops,
rainbow must covenant with the sky lest
the birds break their wings in storms & floods.
son, see, the sun prematures into night
and branches flutter in hurrying torrents,
they have come, look, denizens
dying not to get wet. little witty wings
coursing through the wavering waves,
beating the storms, caving in a roof’s mouth.
son, this is is how you know that
they’ve been here: they peel their flesh off.
OLALEKAN DANIEL KEHINDE is a writer. He has a top entry essay in the National Students Write Hack 2020, Longlisted in NSPP 2020, Shortlisted in FPC, PIN 2020, Finalist in NNDP 2020, and Winner of BPPC Feb-March 2021. His poems have appeared (or forthcoming) in PIN Anthologies, Peace Exhibits Journal, African Writers Magazine, Inkspired, and lots more. He is on Instagram and Twitter as @dapenmustgrow