A medallion is a small thing
by Oluwadare Popoola
For Michael Olajumoke
Joys come in measured orders,
and when you arrived from the desert,
I saw the geysers of a stream
in your eye,
carrying a desolation.
Your body is the utopia for a measure of desolation,
because you, a woman
is the lush of a countryside
built from the war.
Your body, an epigram
points in the direction of love
like the torn legs of a war-struck thing
still picking an abode in disarmament.
And in your songs,
if joy were a small thing,
it would be stuck between your sadness.
Source: From the Isolation Issue (September 2020)
A medallion is a small thing
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OLÚWÁDÁRE PÓPÓỌLA is a poet or so he thinks, a student of Microbiology and a Sportswriter for a media company. He writes from a city by the rocks and longs to see the world without discrimination of any form. He is learning how images are made from words and his poems are up/forthcoming on Mineral Lit. Magazine, Headline Poetry & Press, Feral: A Journal of Poetry & Art and ang(st)zine.
