(For A.K.)
With her aesthetic psalms carved in this skin of mine
Readily healed with the balm she speaks
I gather courage to fight back my wanting desire
To see her again
When she leaves
I reopen the wounds
To revive pleasurable painful memories
Of her sharp beauty
Cutting deep.
Laughter, tearing through me like
Confetti on her personal new year
Her dancing is confection
Her smile, even sweeter
She doesn't age, she turn the page.
I can no longer conceal or restrict my praise
After all, it is her I worship on her holiday.
-
Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2018