TWO POEMS
By Oyin Oludipe
Monday, May 26,
2014.
The Morning After
(For Eloho)
Her feet are dry the morning after
The wrinkled sun sprouts a cloud of lone,
His roaming shut in smoke
Her fingers are heavy the morning after,
Splice sapling around stale sky light,
Forbid the wispy weaves, around
Her tedious neck, around
Coarse skein wounding at the navel
The morning after, thatch was crown
To the world she dug, beetled tassels
On her vision of the deep
By the quiet moments darkened
Her bid is wild the morning after,
‘Give me a wretched pebble to throw
The joyful sea! ’
So her love stood still the morning after
Awaiting sweet memories to bind
On firewood slabs
Womb
(Dirge for the maiming)
Womb, be an eye by my rift,
The tune of birth, by the barb
Fingers dank to slay the knot
Grow against the fence of dawn
Womb, the twitch here sings long,
Long long as the dark that stays, beats
Strange waters of purity to cleanse
The soul-raised mound
Womb, be a spirit-mother to my fear,
Cairn to my skin, wet-scalped…
The feast is wild. Yet I shall know
Serpent-heads, red wines of demise
I shall know the naked wind
Bearing my pearl beyond home,
Beyond first touches of your watery nail…
Mother, I come, busy like the wind
Oyin Oludipe is a Nigerian academic, poet and playwright. His works have
appeared on the Guardian Newspaper, Kalahari Review, Write Paragraphs and other art journals. He loves to ponder in the
dark and read Soyinka’s books. Find him on twitter @Sir_Muell