By: Arikewusola Abdul Awal

What do you think the flower
carries in the dawn? Mist? No.
It’s the tears it sheds at the fare-
well of the moon. The gerbil
never strays the noon; she mourns
in the burrow longing for the moon.
My heart is a tendril, her absence is
burning it–it curls around & wraps
nothing but emptiness and tears.

Call me what you want–hypnotized,
bewitched, cretin, love slave… yes,
I ate vegetables & drank some philter.
Oh my houri, today I’m here again
online–as I always did– waiting in
your inbox. Though you never
appear, I’ll wait till my data runs out.

today, I am lying here again (in the
bed), watching the how the night
slinks away– just like you did.
today, my eyes are again fountains
of tears where insomnia dines and
leaves wad of specks in the morning.
today, my heart throbs again with
passion, longing for your flawless
face, piercing gaze, slender waist…
to appear again, to fill me again,
to make me the me I was again.

I long to find healing again in your
panacean smile, in the chemistry of
our hearts. This saudade is a wood-
pecker, it’s gnawing my body & soul.
But if I die of longing, I die a martyr.

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Arikewusola Abdul Awal writes from Shaki, Oyo state. His poems have appeared on ila magazine, willi wash, Teen Lit journals, Thirty Shades of Roses Anthology, Broken chunks of heart, and elsewhere.