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Iyanuoluwa Adenle

Practise

& i tried to imagine birds with words in their tiny beaks
perched on the roof of my mother's house.
 
except that birds don't just perch on rooftops. they are drawn
by words, they said.
 
except that no story is ever as it is told.
 
last spring:
i was calling birds to the history of
songs lost in my mother's throat.
 
trying and failing to fill up
the orifice of her wounds with the scent of peonies.
 
i didn't know how frightened i was of drowning until it was
just me on a dinghy in the middle of the sea.
 
& all my years of
practicing drowning became smoke.
 
you didn't know how long you had been quiet until now. & all
your years of practicing silence seemed almost theatrical.
 
come sunset:
the birds will ride high on the wind home; lighter.
 
at sunset, imaginary curtains will fall:
your heart heavier with your preference for silence and
 
mine, pumped with fear for anything with wings & the water.
both, larger than our lives. 

Biography

Picture
Iyanuoluwa Adenle (she/her) is a poet and essayist from Nigeria. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming in Empty Mirror, One Jacar Press, Lolwe and elsewhere. She tweets at @teleayo_ 
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ISSN 2639-426X
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    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions