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Olayioye Paul Bamidele: i gaslight the bark of a baobab tree

i gaslight the bark of a baobab tree

my mouth is a dancehall, ricocheting different music at a time. that means
i can lyric grief now & bleach to happiness later. i can hold a leaf & call it a
carve paper, color into green. the nightsky can bear me witness: how i once
ask it if it was sure the stars were really stars & not talcum dust, sprinkle
from space. my mother can witness: how she once saw me licking my wound
& i claim i wheezing air to wry the blood. yesterday, i break, for the first time,
into the forest like a loose water from dam. my father said gruesome dwell
among the trees. example, the baobab that womb abiku. my palm serpentine
through the bark & shred a piece. the forest must have heard the echo of the
cracking. the hoopoe takes a watch_stand & twitter through the forest. flutters
babble the silence. a roar tear through the forest & cut a piece of my heart. i
sprint back home, my heart running faster than me. when i return home,
my father see the bark & made to whack my head. but i said it’s not baobab,
but that of conifer. he said it is baobab, & i debate, juxtaposing the likeness. his
face carve a puzzle, stares back at uncertainty, questioning if old age has
not rob him of his knowledge of nature & myths.

Poem © Olayioye Paul Bamidele
Image: Pixabay remixed

Olayioye Paul Bamidele
Olayioye Paul Bamidele
Olayioye Paul Bamidele is a honeycomb writer and a student of mass communication. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Spillword, Feral, Lunaris, Artlounge, Afreecan, Ice Floe, Kissing Dynamite, Kreative Diadem and elsewhere. You can find him on Facebook @Paul Olayioye and twitter @Olayioye_Paul. On WhatsApp 08162573107.

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