The room scarcely holding
Dawn’s first light, which had
Traveled many minutes
To arrive at my bedpost.
Time’s lugging on
Each day more or less
Sanctified, warmed up and
Sober. Slow enough that I’m aware
Of who’s lost. I watch the eggs run out
To the pan’s far perimeters.
Unwilling to trace the trails
my mind leaves behind.
A litter of memories.
The past must be a circle
Where every point is a corner
Within which whole years enter
And are tucked away for good.
In another city where
The night is hanging low,
I’m walking down that first street
With nothing yet lapping at my heel.
Over my shoulder is the farther past
Turning and turning like filth.
I had not known it.
It was long ago now, befores
And thens like ancient pillars
Landmarking those days.
Though who can reach the ruins.
That former architecture
Seems lost. The heart? It’s in place,
Unremarkable as yesterday’s breakfast.
Ifoghale Eguwe is a young poet living and writing from Nigeria. He has previously been published in Yemassee Journal and Whale Road Review.
Sunrise illustration by C.B. Auder.