a brother slides back into the mire. thunder strikes.
teeth clack; tongues wiggle. he stands naked at the eye
of today’s sermon’s vortex. this is what the lamb’s wife
does best; hack down her struggling soldiers
and kiss the canines of warring wolves.
Ayinke’s bulgy belly is refrain of choir’s latest gig
she can’t lay a finger on the father of the fetus; the saints thus
usher her into wilderness with
ferocious verses dripping with scorn and slur.
the sermoner’s roar grows into a ginormous hand
picks the best of the wounded and feeds them
to the yawning maw of the ravenous streets.
a stinking beggar, bowl in hand, glues her ears to the
lips of the church, eager to hear the clank of kindness
dropped in her metal bowl. silence. a shepherd hits her feet with his
sturdy staff; she’s bad news to the brand’s puffing ego.
somewhere… a lost man fumbles into a synagogue
in search of water and pillow. but someone… half-human-half-beast
offers him stone for bread, blood for water, and a fiery arrow.
…in the throes of death, he crawls his way to Golgotha
where the bridegroom awaits his bride.
Omidire Joshua Idowu