I heard this house on our mangled street
was bought in a hurry but it really does carry its weight
and age well: A bird spread-eagled against paled clouds.
Timeless Barbie in a modern world of plastics.
This over-dressed garden could make for easy loving
but the tips of fatigued flowers steal rest
from those pretend fawning of lovers fighting.
Day-after day I am still drawn to the drawing room
of a ribbing monument.
Each day at my mother’s side.
We tug at blinds all frayed at feeble edges,
but her staccato voice the only freshness that flows through
to lift stubborn dust from finely needled antic patchwork.
Let’s jabber about creepy home corners: faded memories they hold.
Let’s talk about everything: renovations,
our odd family celebrations:
We wittily leave out fine details of how
to truly love a house that has lived through
twirls of changing seasons.
Lind Grant-Oyeye was born in Nigeria. She has works published in literary magazines world wide. The recipient of the UHRSN international human rights poetry award, her work was also part of the analysis of the Greek economic crisis, through the arts project. One of the poets in the Boston University literary magazine feature of African writers, her writing is forth-coming in a joint anthology of modern Latin American /African writers.
Photo Credit: Premasagar Rose via Flickr