Submitted by Anikulapo

Our beauty fade like a broken egg
by the time, we sit at the almond tree
to see the silhouette chanting his
voyeurism as an enchantment to
the dusk moon.

Don’t mind the moon, she travels with
the thighs of old men and we pray
to debunk the sinister; before the new
cortege comes with the Saturday
Jollof Rice.

Oh! My God, why do mankind react as a
prodigal child?
whose ego has replenished
to a new moment— after
the incident of our façade skins

And this has become an umpteenth time
when women die for men;
and men die to hold
a caveat for many pigeons to flee
at once.

In a subtle world.

Published by Adekunle Writes

Adekunle is the author of a poetry collection, 'Arise Nigeria'. A young writer, Adekunle is a correspondent at Church Times Newspaper and Contributing Editor for Interviews at OPEN: Journal of Arts and Letters. He's the recipient of Daily Trust Newspaper's Poet of the week, January 2019. Follow me on Instagram on Adewunmi

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