.
Àdùké, I don't think you will ever fully comprehend
How I canoed into the drowsy yawn of your sublime heart
Or how I watched, mute and lifeless
The apprehensive whine of your beaded waist
Or how I gave up my body parts, to burn in hell
So I could have a dew-hoisted thumb full of my blood
As a vermilion, just to adore your forehead.
- yet you never gave it back.
.
I don't think you will ever fully comprehend
How I bore my grief alone
When at the breaking of dawn, you deserted my unpadded boat
And eloped for home, with the whistling leaves,
Crushed under the sole of Akínsolá's sandals -your heartbeat
Will you ever comprehend how I watched on, in tears 
How day and night unkissed
Waiting for your unfaded voice, to lull me to sleep.
- yet, you never returned.
.
I don't think you will ever fully comprehend
How silent I was
Like life itself
When you unthinkingly, built a bridge at our heaven's gate
And made me walk four hundred miles to cry a river to ripeness.
Who then can reach us?
.
Tonight, as the dark breeze file past our sick shadows,
I stared at Morénikéjì, our daughter,
The bruised seed of our careless venture
And also at the window
And watched as raindrops press unmindfully
Against the servile body of the Louvres.
The vermilion of my blood, is yet unfaded on her forehead
As she lay asleep devoid of the worlds worries
On the remains of our matrimonial paper-bed
- dreaming of another kind of creative crime, different from yours.
.
.
*©George O. Victor* (2018)
Happy World poetry day!!!