For aunt Vic
The day mother heard you left with the wind she wept.
The day you died flowers wilted in her chest/
The moon of her face waned — eclipsed with the cloud
Of grief the sun refused to rise in her that day
& the day after & the day after that day.
Hands — holding so much weight. Mouth rendering
Notes of dirges. It feels like bone caught in the throat/
It feels like waking in a room of burning embers—
With no door of exit, the day she heard of your transition.
& I want to make her stop but what do I know of grief?
What do I know of loss?
& I wish to bring you back
Like most elegies — to draw air back into your lungs
Like her songs. but I suck at many things — including wishes.
Everyday, she pours your name into litanies hoping God sets
Your feet on the streets of gold, & the prayer
Ends with your name just as it begins with it.
& I make memories of childhood my solace —
The times we never left Lagos. Talking under the glory
Of the moon. mosquitoes feasting on feet and hands.
