i hear umal is with child
i cry all through the night
i recall teaching her to recite
poems written by wilde.
she’s the thirteenth pregnant thirteen year-old
i know. starving arin stole and sold
two eggs for bread. but it is cold
in jos, he died of hunger and frostbite.
he has rested in a mild
flowery branch of gold
i wake a forest despite
all the beguiled
plea to show that empathy is bowled.