Family question
A family of
four: an ex secret, a doll to share
new moons with, a sky-blue diary and a door
— nobody does the sign
of the cross during sex; a braid
of moonlight and
shadow directs your head to a pillow, and next
to your window hangs a raindrop ready to touch
your heart; even a rat cannot feast
on a field of vows; can i go outside of this life,
you ask
Dream
The dream that wanders
with a vapour, kitchen to waiting
room to vroom
— love is when you drink a sour orange and
still call it orange. dinner doesn't hurt lent
that dream that lathers
in black and white waters, making
a road for relation ships
— no flower says goodbye to
a butterfly nor a moonwear. love cannot be paraphrased
Boyhood
Boyhood is a long wagon
heading always to a rain forest — dresses mean characters
with a play of blues
you can walk through the valley
of shadows of love
of spiders
breaking a night into two moans
After the thunderstorm
After the thunderstorm, she went out into the night cold and cried: come, come star, star, touch my eyes and give my dark pond light.
that night the lightning didn't stop until she said: thank you
David Ishaya Osu is a Nigerian poet. His poems have appeared in: Atlas Poetica: A Journal of World Tanka, Birmingham Arts Journal, Tipton Poetry Journal, Watershed Review, The Missing Slate and elsewhere. David is a board member of the Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation, and he is currently polishing his debut poetry book.