IT IS TWELVE…
It is twelve
And the day is at crossroads;
Evening wrestles night
For the rights of time
It is twelve
And it is a new day
This day begins its day yawning
A hundred loads
Loom on its discourteous sun
Its face, dyed with uncertainty
Deep rooted in fantasies
And doctored memories
It is 12:00am, Good morning!
It is twelve,
Bath-supplications compete at crossroads
It is twelve
And it could birth anything;
They were twelve,
Clustered at their master’s feet
At the sound of jiggling coins
One thought of Wall Street
And boarded the next train
Does it matter?
If it were a day or people?
It was twelve in June…
They faulted the people’s wish
And dug a thousand graves
Bio
‘Gbenga Adeoba is a lover of words. His poems have appeared in Sankofa LitMag, Bukrepublik and elsewhere.
Well done!