Tuesday Poem by Efe Ogufere

this woman’s body is not a home,
beautiful broken things do not make a home.
it is an abandoned house
around the corner,
walk too briskly
and you’d miss it.

Mother neatly folds sobs
between her wrappers
carefully placing them in a box,
sighs and despondent smiles,
she walks out and dares a lion to bare his teeth.
she forgot she was a pacifist.

the crunch of breaking bones,
a marriage of fists does not
end in a dance of naked flesh.

her terse voice orders me
back to sleep
back to denial
then her tired, sad smile
and she whispers,
back to bed Jethro,
your father and I are just dancing