Permanent Contract

By Majekodunmi Ebhohon

THE cemetery has a work ethic.
Nothing lies there for long.

The rain settles the heavy mound,
the mud pulls at a loose stone,
and the weeds push through the fence.

In a kitchen,
a loaf stiffens on the counter,
milk studies its own fading,
and a houseplant practices departure
one yellow leaf at a time.

Everything finished gets rehired.

The soil keeps no favourites,
only a steady exchange program,
where endings earn entrance
and arrivals sign exit papers.