Desire has done to me
what
summer does to sunflowers —
I too, blossom
into oblivion
at the sight
of radiant things:
like my aunt’s
ocean-blue eyes,
where I became
both
witness & wreckage
of juvenile tenderness,
like the pink,
sparkling lips
of my childhood crush,
split open
by harmattan heat,
like sun rays slipping
through the cracks
in my restless windowpane.
