As for the lunar month
We sniff and smear
Await time
Burning
Like the darkness of the night
This is for the sacred days
We yawn beneath our bellies
The nose knocking the smells
On the walls to the west and the east
The verses that herald our bodies
That wrap us from the muddy acts
And make us a living flesh
The wordy words from this cloud
Drops of honeys
Of man that make the earth
A bowl of cereal we eat
Without counting the grains
That fill up our prayers
Oh Allah,
Burn those sins
From the canals of our tongue
And the flies that breathe
In our heart of sickened desires.
©Onafowokan Taofeek Busayo