Out Of The Loom Poem by Simpa Omoluabi

Out of the loom I pluck a rose,
out of the loom flows flowers
of the beheaded,
a deity slayed of a deity laid.

Bouquet in the wilderness,
cry baby, cry,
your fears are over...

Look not upon it,
you have let down no god,
look to it as a blue conceit...

A circumcised sheet of an oath betrayed;
dry clean the wasteland of its blooming
and let it hang-dry in the sun...

Now at your will lodge us just come,
and us come in re-enactment,
to renaissance at midnight.

Copyright © 2010 Out Of The Loom by Simpa Omoluabi