NewPoetry

Uchechukwu Peter Umezurike

Sunset is an afterglow of pink,
lingering around you
on the porch, lingering.

The arrowhead flight
of geese fades
into the sky.

A coil of yarn, distance
untangles
in your mind.

Every holiday
is a longing.

You count time as beads,
hold desire between both palms,
hold desire like a glass of beer.

You remember
that woman on TV,
aged by dust–
…………….a rare insect –
…………………………crawling out
…………………………………from the cranny, from the ruin
……………………………………………that once was her house,
only after the bombers fall quiet.

You remember,
because somewhere out there
someone –
someone will no longer have
a span of soil
to call home.