BODY OF SHRINKING MEN
By Hajarah Adokutu Robust, round, orobokibo The plum flesh, a vitality signage Like the neon sign Which blares into the sight in the dark night The same night, In it the shrinking steals in Shrinking away vitality from your leathery skin. Your plum arms which has cradled me a few times too many Now in time looks like a twig garbed in flesh A thinly veiled flabby limb. Eyes recoiled at the sight [Of tracing your clothed skeleton with my sight] My plumb fingers traced the bones of your stubs As I carved and etched into my mind your features Praying age doesn't steal these from me The way it had done to your frame. My Dad said he feared the shrinking more than death. In my mind it seems like a vain thing to say. Who doesn't want to be a skinny Queen before their death? A chiseled face in its Sunday best or plain white cloth. A body which would be light to lift but given how death works, it will be a heavy burden to bear and carry. Now I know ...
