By Dick Hanus
Blistered
Beneath these blistered hands,
Son, are rivers of untold stories
Stories that embrace oversight
Before being formed, dead on
Arrival. I also want to caress
Your tender body with cam-
Wood oil. But I worry about
Puncturing your skin. So I
Tell myself that, one day
when dawn breaks into dew,
you will realize what it takes
To still see the moon from
Your windowsill, after a happy
Night rest from the embrace
Of your blanket and the soft
Chest of your bed.
Káyọ̀dé Ayọ̀bámi is a Nigerian and an African literature enthusiast, interested in Academics and Yorùbá translation. His works have been published or forthcoming in echelon, icefloepress, Olongo, Àtẹ́lẹwọ́, PoetrySangoỌta, isele, Ake review, South Florida, and elsewhere. He was shortlisted for the ake climate change poetry prize (2022). Twitter: @KayodeAyobamii
Dick Hanus had four kids but now just three. Zen and Love.