Litany by uche omar

I am the broom
leaning aganist the wall
the ladle
full of piping hot soup

i am the hands that launder
the sagging breast
suckled by many children

i am the worn wrapper
smelling of yesterday’s cooking
the eyes that tear up
as you peel onions

Mine is the skin
etched with stretchmarks

But you know
in the eyes of your beloved
stretchmarks
are life’s beautiful etchings

But when one is unloved
the smell of the wrapper
becomes his excuse

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.