Yoruba

we

the people kissed by sun and night

caricatures of dancing stardust 

enraptured in trebeled sounds 

and lopsided stanzas

feet bare to the ground

hands as utensils

tongues wise beyond

its donkey years

bodied art…

we bustle -

naturally 

wealthy.

we remember seashells

and english as plush as feather pillows

trembling ambience

we never thought our confidence a problem

we were wed to ourselves

inbred 

marrying them never crossed our minds

perhaps this is why our tongues split open

and bristle at the thought 

of inhabiting somewhere else.