Rotting So Beautifully
By Majekodunmi Oseriemen Ebhohon
LOOK how beautifully it falls,
without a single argument,
dropping from the branch by the fence
to begin its softening in the grass.
It does not require three people
to turn it over.
Nor does it call out
from the bruised skin of its shoulder
for a glass of water
it will only spill across the sheets.
It lets summer heat
undo what spring began,
melting into the ground
without a lawyer, a clinic, or a cry.
I stand by the window,
holding the soiled linens,
jealous of the fruit
rotting in the yard,
wishing we could all dissolve
into earth so politely,
instead of tearing down the house
just to leave the room.
