WORSHIP
White shirts&shorts assemble in the shrine
Of time, furtively invoking the godofgrandprix
White drops of clarity seed
In the blueblack muddiness of dawn’s bowl
We are goosebumps, swaying
On Issele-Uku’s dew-darkened dust
We are toy soldiers sprawled
In the counsel of ease
We are ferris wheels of feet, powered
By instincts still intact in the slime
Of birth. And we are voices unravelling
From mouths kissed by blindness.
appeared in Ann Arbor Review
(c) Tolu Ogunlesi
Tolu Ogunlesi 