by Olatunde Osinaike
I finally want to talk about it
has taken me a decade more
than most and all my wisdom
teeth have fallen victim by now
there is a draft buried beneath
this you will never know of
a pleasure of released dioxide and
simile I don’t write because
the block asks I do this out of
an empathy for myself, a backlog
of tears and this body knows that
the deal is ending soon it just thinks
it can wait out having to pay
the delivery fee and this is just
like me to go on and on nodding
to the tune of ephemera in my head
without letting go I can count on one
hand how many fingers I have lifted
to speak to my grandmother or
times I even perused a bible yet I
could tell you more about how
many times I opened my mouth
for favor this week alone.