After you left, your wife became a bird, even the gravitational pull
Called her a witch, she has been denied a soft landing, now she searches the sky of Sahara,

After you left your mother became a nursery; a piece that should grow something else
Nursing flowers of dead memories, griefs and what will burn into ashes

And that which will never see the sun, she became a frame
Holding your photographs; pictures assuming the color of the sea you are becoming all day, after you left

Your daughter became a spirit, ransacking the city for a home, running all night, she said,
All you left are burning and she is out here to find her broken self, after you left

Your father became a vessel of high sighs, some even called him
A mad dog, really his sighs were like dog’s pant, after you left

Your father became an angry sea, snapping, hissing sometimes, holding much of what he didn’t need,
We learnt he sobs all night, asking God for your body to be returned and be buried like your brother’s.

Fasasi Abdulrosheed Oladipupo is a Nigerian poet & a Veterinary Medical Student, whose first love is art making. His works have been featured or are forthcoming on The Night Heron Barks Review, Stand Magazine, Louisiana Literature, Olongo Africa, Obsidian: Literature and Art in the African Diaspora, The Citron Review, Kissing Dynamite, Collateral, Welter Journal, LEVITATE, Praxis Magazine, 433 Magazine, WriteNow Lit and elsewhere.