Temiloluwa Omoyele
When the day is over, night is drawing near
You pull your covers up to your head, hoping it’d hide you from the shame you’ve made that day. It piles up with the others. Your stomach is an empty space for grief to sleep. Your head can’t find rest, not in your tear-cladded pillow, or in tomorrow.
You try to send some words to the sky, but what of the others you sent last night? Did they not get to their destination? Se epo tan lọnà?
Shadows of the evening steal across the sky
…and steal your peace with it. Night shadows grope your throat tight. They tell you light won’t come. They scratch the back of your head with words you wouldn’t call your enemy. They remind you of your falls and whisper – loser, oloshi, forever wannabe. A bi ọ ti bí ni, tueh.
Tighter, pull the covers tighter.
