EYES IN MY MEMORY {For Somtinde Audu}

When I close my eyes I see little whirls of breeze
Spinning softly in the chill hamartan of my childhood
How in the cusp of this brownness I grew and learnt to sin. . .
I’m a fallen angel now, hiding amidst the grey sterility of words

In my mind I raise a chalice for you to drink of something
Glimpsed briefly in the deep mines of your feather-soft eyes
So that drunken of it we would unravel the clothes of convention
And touch with tongues the fragile skin of a truth that disturbs no one

But you turn away from the treason of my opening eye
The distance of dreams grows vast; the whirling breeze is stilled,
The chalice of language is broken and all that remains in my hand -
Is the memory of your eyes, and the remembered music of your laughter.

- Ra.