the day my father exorcised obstinacy
to exorcise our obstinacy, every
morning our father reels
out verses of the scriptures on our heads.
at dusk he finds solace with a stick,
searching for one who would rupture
God’s will with unholy mannerisms. just one.
every one detested him except
his dog and panasonic tv,
which often utters soft songs
& obituaries of men who died
in war with an anonymous virus.
attitude is like smoke. it can’t be hidden,
he would say. can’t strip
the anatomy of dust, yet the rain tries.
today, we his sons, an eloquence of lawyers
lay his remains in a casket
filled with an orchestra of goodwill.
& like any good son, we lift his essence
above the earth’s horizon to God’s bare face,
for the graffiti of our present
was painted by his actions of yore.
By Ajise Vincent
Ajise Vincent is an Economist based in Lagos, Nigeria. His works have appeared in Jalada, Chiron Review, Asian Signature, Ann Arbor Review, Yellow Chair Review, Bombay Review, Birmingham Arts Journal, The Cadaverine, Saraba, Brittle Paper, Sentinel Quarterly, and Elsewhere. He is a recipient of the Eriata Oribhabor poetry prize 2015. He loves coffee, blondes and turtles.