set patience
in my eyes small
prince of flight,

yours, from the rapture
of small wings over
rippling river.

i am less

than mustard seeds,
than the life you pick from the media
before me,
than the exploitation
that sings from
half-reconstructed notes in my mouth

but the miracle is
giving me hands to fish

from photographs filled with
flowing elegies of
laughter overused and
doorways broken

& a large family song suppressed in the hole
i jump in to,

a fresh page moulded from clay

— a taut crush of water—
seeking light out of slithering shadows,

revived between us
as conductors of

what revival is
the voice of skin,
the response of your god to stimuli,

spark for wind & bread.


OsyMizpah Unuevho spends his time between Northern and Western Nigeria, studying, loving and writing about: Geology; sensory paintings & music & God & the third person, his female mind; freethinking and poetry. He is currently working on his debut poetry collection.

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