By Timi Sanni
Maple trees bowing their heads
like jailbirds awaiting the noose
hide their tears among the cloak
of darkness
The moon gliding across the sky
like the Lord’s angel
erupts into a magma of light
and purity
Down the hill behind a boy’s home
black like death, a stallion gallops
along the first snows of July & leaves behind
abysses in place of hoof prints
The boy, looking at the night
through a glazed window sees
the moon become a halo of doves
upon a skeleton of trees
Upon the snow, obsidian stones
amid a cornucopia of bones, the shadow
of a picket fence, black and white
like a dead zebra upon the snow
The night –a shadow within dark shrouds–
sees the boy –sweet innocence, a heart
dripping manna within a black body–
and howls
About the Author
Timi Sanni is a coffee-loving poet, writer and literary enthusiast. His works have been published or is forthcoming in literary journals including Writers Space Africa, Rather Quiet, Fitrah Review, Nanty Greens, Praxis, African Writers and elsewhere. He is also a SprinNG Fellowship Alumnus.
Copyright© 2020 by Timi Sanni
Undivided Magazine 
beautiful.
attaboy!
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