Some cleansing lashes.

My heart is a light canvas for your grief painting.
Recommended; the brush of guilt
posed beside your bloodline;
a mugshot that rhyme.
I brushed my teeth under your family tree.
Till the day it rained a snake on my leg.
It doesn’t rain every day.

But it washes grief off the soil’s face
into my pen’s marrow the few times it does.
I didn’t write on time. I always aim
to leave my fingerprints on a new wall.
I took a shot of my shadows to prove I existed.

I’m not convinced my shadow thinks I’m worth following
even if I float on a lake of stars. My tongue is a whip
I immersed so every lash can fall as a wish.
I still cage it with my teeth,
brush it in, so it can see down my piped throat.
My light heart is a painted canvas.

Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi is a Veterinary medicine student at the University of Ibadan, Nigeria, a submission reader at the sea glass literary magazine, and an editor for the incognito press. Pursuing his enthusiasm for poetry, He has his works published in Poet’s Choice, Brave Voices Magazine, and more. He tweets from; @OladejoAFeranmi