death

           Written by oka benard osahon
 

The glowing embers of a dying day.
The last flare as the sun fades away.
The splash of colour on the endless canvass.
The artist, my creator, a superb master.

The reflection of silver light
On rippling waters of the Ethiope.
The lovers entangled
In her fast, flowing enchantment.
The creaking of lifeguards feet
As a fearful wail pierces the silver dark.

The faint blush of innocent morning.
The skin of morning, ripe
As an apple hung on the lowest branch.
The first smelly breath of a maiden's kiss
As her lover's repose is engorged awake.

The light drizzle on the onlookers
As they watch death's grisly job.
The smiling rictus,
The frozen wail on blue lips,
The ambulance lights wink
And its horn plays a dirge.

The heat of afternoon tales by the Ethiope,
Sipping Jack Daniels, smoking blunt.
Versions of events, spittle driven
From emaciated brains,
Splatter everywhere and ingested
By bored cynics sipping and smoking...
Sipping and smoking.