never seen her tuck a shirt in a skirt
/ a pencil, a book & a bag
tied to her back for school
never seen her count stones
/ add bottle lids together
for an arithmetic exercise
instead, i have seen her with
a basket / a tray / a big bowl
stocked with goods
her voice pressed into walls
— of her trade:
— of the sweetness in her oranges
— of mangoes as fresh as infant eyes
— of pineapples that echo orisons in the mouth of its eater
she’d walk in the face of morn
through noon & find her way back home
when the tray on her head is empty
as a pauper’s purse
maybe her mother / her guardian
feed her with crumbs
& lynch her & stamp her face to dust
when she dashes a naira to the wind
& as she walks past houses & greens
the temple between her legs
is open to strangers
who’d forcibly wash their filth in her
Header photograph by Charlotte Hamrick
Adesina Ayobami Idris is a Nigeria poet who explores themes of; domestic violence, infidelity, girlhood and boyhood. He can be reached on facebook @Adesina Ayobami Idris and twitter @literallybam1.
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