ELBOWS AND PHLEGM Or, Wedding in a Pedophile Prank

 

Oyin Oludipe

They grew sterile
A hundred ways – warm fingers
Too cold at the nape
These nights that swayed.
Mothers tore at festive lull

Road singers
Chant a mild tune, lone
A hug only could douse
To a make-shelter heave of their elbow-pads

The weary limbs alone was horror and faith
Locked so far with fright and fight
Daughters share the mucus for repast
Awaiting mother-breasts resurge,

Breach the screen
With hurt sirens, good wants
Must survive the whistled purr
Of a safe-journey bid down the senile street

Voices down!
Our agencies are serene and busy-ness
Intense, and meekly now
Turn around, fixed in nation’s hitch scale

Week three:
The tears of pained innocence must course
To strange needs – ache of elbow
For offspring’s rheum when she had
Dined on prayers and the febrile nerve

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