granted we were born
into sweat every cloud a pore,
but you won’t see me going around
flaunting the caliber of the farewell where i
have come from only where i spring into next.
some days it’s a subway. others it’s a confession.
one time i waived the malodorous stir of summer
to instead dance to the debut of another meal i paid
less than 4.99 for. i forget how senseless it is to ask
to be expense so i believe it right here in this memory
the start of a tab i have yet to glance at. if to glow is to
melt in the sting of another day deemed light to seize at
once, then let us do that just that but with grace as blatant
as the crackle set loose on my brother’s tongue. he empties a
whole pack of pop rocks into his mouth as my mother reminds
sons of what loud means in the hood, as if we are repeat offenders
& honestly we could be that or anything our father did not claim. still
none of this is of the matter, only the softening of the ice cream in my left palm
catches my attention, as it should, my knuckle once again a shoulder for bliss to lean on
Olatunde Osinaike is a Nigerian-American poet originally from the West Side of Chicago. He is Black, still learning and eager nevertheless. An alumnus of Vanderbilt University, his most recent work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Hobart, Apogee, HEArt Online, Glass, Up the Staircase, and FreezeRay, among other publications.