Father’s Skull Harboured Inferno
Father had lost all his age before he died:
I saw his farewell face
as only a scary replica of mine as a toddler
and when he said “do not cry.
I will come out stronger”
all I heard was infant babbles.
My mind out of disappointment then deserted me
and the contracting walls of his hospital room–
like compatriots on Mediterranean–
for the inside of his head
penetrated through the threshold in his skull
cracked opened by my profuse gaze of pity:
Doctor said Father’s skull harboured tumours
but I saw flames
and thick clouds of smokes
bearing him to heavens
as inferno does a mansion.
This writer, Bayo Aderoju, is a playwright, poet, essayist and fiction writer resident in Lagos. He holds a first class B.A in English. His works appear in Praxis Magazine, Spillwords, Ngiga Review and Kalahari Review, and forthcoming in Sub-Saharan Magazine. He spends most of his time in his head but you can sometimes find him on Facebook @Bayo Aderoju or Twitter @bayo_aderoju.
