Boiled egg, naked smoothness white
Like marble, reliable and strong.
O svelte composure of demureness,
Burst and strut through
In the last quarter of the year
Border line, rain and sun
In battle, drench an already saturated earth
With querulous mingle.
And I am not earth bitterly
To harvest warm dimpled kisses.
Should I dare,
Almond rounding of your eyes
Received and stored in a lid
Lubricated with tears, and contained. Those eyes
Belong to stellar-clad skies
Scudding pedagogically for the Magi,
Myself, they move, and I learn
A lovely pencil of nose, yours,
Yet domicled above lips
Unselfish to reveal snow-white melons
An opening of fresh rose bud,
With the fragrance raw.
The gait is contagious
Not to me. But I wish
I could see disrobed her figure eight
That would never be mine.
The soft breakables of the valley
Would be adored to wetness and excitement,
Fantastic, incited not by me
Who cannot enter that palace
Preserved in the garden
Of her thighs.
for Chiugo, my elder brother's wife.
(c) Onyebuchi, 2011.