Two Poems by Dipe Jola

IceFloe Press

these walls are too loud


mother chants my name through the doors –
hollow as a piped bone. she folds the letters
into an iron gun. shoots every time.
she breathes through the walls as if my name is
something too heavy to pierce the mass of grey
earth. this name, polished in the southern part
of this border is a garden of eruptions.
ronke! ronke! ronke!
salt this tongue and it rings through the house
again as if learning to call my name till it evaporates.
she doesn’t quit. my brother too. even these walls
separating us – i hear its whispers every night. It
ruffles like a radio, in search of frequency. [shriek]
the child is only a bird. my name is only a noun but
these walls chirp too loud. ronke! ronke!

(untitled)


I
A sorrow ridden lad sits with his back hinged
to a treehouse. He…

View original post 204 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.