by Tolu Ogunlesi
1
Who sits in your cockpit,
Sweaty hands fixed upon your controls –
God, or Darwin?
Who spins your machine out of the path
Of my buzz-seeking swipe;
Programs you to fly light
On your outbound journey, elusive
As light; and to return loaded
With blood, sluggish, half-doomed?
2
Splattered,
On the wall beside my bed,
Your bloody memory.
You never said
Much, allowing instead
Those whining wings
That fed on dreams
And darkness
To do all the speaking.
3
Who will bear your spirit to eternity,
And build a memorial at the site
Where you will lie,
A blood-bearing boeing,
A living signature,
A darkening memory
(c) 2011
Originally appeared in Istanbul Literary Review
Tolu Ogunlesi 