My Room's Wall
D.M. Aderibigbe
when my grandmother shouts
with husk of cashew in corners
of her mouth, I shift
my bed closer to heaven. I see
God's face every morning.
On the wall of my room,
Damascus crumbles.
Morsy loses his tongue
into the cannons of the army
Egypt enriches the Red Sea
with red water dripping
out of the dead screams.
A train in Quebec rides
Over 15 thoughts
into forgetfulness.
How about the other 35
voices that go AWOL?
Beirut and Kabul are founded
on the same day. Do
not ask me to elucidate
that to you. Ask the geniuses
who made explosives that have left
many bodies burning
righteously, like churches set ablaze
by opinionated opposites
of the Christians in Northern sphere
Of Nigeria - In my backyard.
My backyard is simmering in the hands
of Boko Haram. God! This morning
I come, admonishing you to bless
me with chronic blindness when I turn
to the wall of my room.
D.M. Aderibigbe was born in Lagos, Nigeria. He graduates in 2014, with an undergraduate degree in History and Strategic Studies from the University of Lagos. His work appears in Hotel Amerika, Rio Grande Review, and B O D Y. He’s been nominated for the 2014 Best New Poets Anthology.
