happiness is a butterfly, grief is a butterfly

I

 

look at the lines

on my palms

 

a house of god

sinks at the edge

 

of the world

a packet of boys

 

walks through dust

to wash their bodies

 

at the river

they wash each other’s backs & laugh

 

outside my grandfather’s

house

 

a boy chisels

a doll from softwood

 

at night he comes out

to the square & sings

 

dances his wooden doll

on an iron table

 

there was war

but outside

 

their world turns

with mothers

 

sitting on another’s husband’s

lap

 

II

 

if you check the lines on my palms

you will see a group of men

 

dusting bullets off their chests

—an antelope snorting gratitude

 

for the hunter’s misfire

 

III

 

a butterfly is god’s

experiment with dust

 

the maker breathed beauty

into my grandfather’s ashtray & commanded

 

wings into it

i want to be breathed into

 

carry my memory the way it carries me

walk to the river where some of the boys

 

were drowned by the soldiers

mourn the ones that sang with their throats filled with bubbles

 

a butterfly is god’s experiment with dust

the boys, his experiment with breathing

 

the dust an entrance

the breath an exit

 

what is it in water that carries a ship

but gags the pharynx

 

the doll boy floats on the gentle stream

my grandfather saw him first

 

IV

 

i have tried to pray myself

out of dreams

 

my grandfather is the music man

& i was the knuckle dipped in his throat

 

elegy to the flower crushed by the first tractor

the white man rode into oke-agbo

 

that morning

there were no boys to welcome the machines

 

no doll boy & his group of trailblazers

no drummer beating the sun into skin pores

 

—all mothers wore black to their farms


Also by Adedayo Agarau

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