Monday's Supper
Monday's Supper
The boy's heart dance's:
a trance
at noon.
Then he yawns
like a cock's
crow,
with a thin smile.
Picking his teeth,
wishing the night
fell in the sea.
Sea turtles, once eaten a year,
made by his dear
mother;
when she tarried at the haff with fish nets
and livid scarves
feigning, hissing... hoping
to seize a whale.
The boy is a vagabond:
trained with a bow
and arrow
to scurry on this land
till the sun dies.
Hunger became a muse
as he snoozes
beneath the frenzy clouds;
The wind gathered wood fragments
--a match from his
bottom,
''Cocoyams emerged"
Then he finds
himself dressed in his
Mother's
kitchen.
Copyright © Victor Ehikioya-Brown | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment