The Clinic 

You are twenty years old, standing by the stop
Smelling of fast food, soul full of immigrant dreams
Your class at two pm, you missed
More hours for moneygram
Your little sister
Needs money for exam
To enter the University of Lagos.

You are twenty-three years old
Sitting, watching him walk naked
His skin contrast against yours
He reminds you of August rains back in Lagos
The seven days rain that floods the roads,
That blocks the entrance to your street.

You try not to let the darkness break you down
He does not answer your calls anymore
You hold yourself from falling
And home seemed so far away
You desperately cradled anyone,
even if they flood your spirit
Like the August rains in Lagos.

You walk quietly into the clinic
Your rosary in your pocket
Praying quietly
Trying your hardest not to
Touch your belly
As the doctor calls your name.

By Ijeoma Umebinyuo

Biography:

I am a writer and a recent author of my first collection of poems.
I was born and raised in Nigeria.