Tendril Love of Africa

Molara Ogundipe
1940 – 2019


I see again and again in my eyes
the smile flit over your cheekbones
Reach like a tendril to caress your face
in those lean days that startled
do you rejoice
that life does not slaughter our dreams
our secret thoughts on its butcher bench of time
that we gather to ourselves
the scraps and bones our dismembered being
hoard to nurse them
that death may not out-stare us?

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