Scattered wings of a one night dance
remembers the heat of a dim hallway lamp.
Shattered wings in this lonely place
recalls the twist of the quaking skies.
“God sends rain as a sign of approval,”
the Olori said.
We look at the knotted sky
and smell the rain drying on hot air.
The Olori stares at her hands,
“Even though the thumb is unwell,
the hand still remains.
What can be done but await the change?”
The wooden floor seethes of wingless black ants
that tap to the change on this glorious night.
When the morning tiptoes away from the dark,
bodies squirm through cracks as regret releases its shame
in the dance of the first summer’s rain.
(All rights reserved by Lesley Lababidi, 1999, Lagos) To copy or re-produce photography and/or writings, written permission from Lesley Lababidi is required.