Poetry: The Wall

By Majekodunmi Ebhohon

EVERY few years,
they paint the wall.

They cover the damp,
the hairline cracks,
and the places where rain
has found its way in.

The children sleep
against the wall.
Their mother leans
against it
when she is tired.
It holds the roof
above them all.

No one asks
how much weight it carries,
nor what the cracks
are saying.

Last year, a crack ran
from the ceiling
to the height
of the youngest child.
Her mother covered the crack
with a calendar.

This year, they painted
over the calendar, too.

Inside,
they are planning
another coat.

Last year, a crack ran
from the ceiling
to the height
of the youngest child.
Her mother covered the crack
with a calendar.

This year, they painted
over the calendar, too.

Inside,
they are planning
another coat.