by Anikulapo

Even life is chronicle
Of a wizened song
With superstition from the river

Even the twilight as nomadic
Children dancing in nudity
As the shimmering figurine
Masques for a lymph season

And, I saw them last night
They saw me too,
When I walked into the fairy feet
Of my ancestral shadows

For those strange gods to voyeurism
Their bodies in a usurp
Since, money has a certain recognition
To make the world a larynx
As I encounter this chronicle.

Even an ocean is a chronicle
Of children with synods;
Perhaps, the world is an egg
Broken in a shrub of the moon.

You can reach Anikulapo on Twitter

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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