RITUAL | NKET GODWIN

I sit on the basement facing your absence every morning
to watch breeze play with birds,
or birds, with breeze—something tickles their preening.
I watch grass dandle ofut-ijon¹ on brittle laps,
gay butterflies dry their wings in the hug of sun,
rising, triumphant, from the eastern bed…
I watch nature gather what we throw away every day—companionship!
& in the wilderness of my fantasies,
memory holds the hand of our halcyon days
& walks me into solace.