The Bride Of Men Poem by Folayemi Akande

You do better tempt by your ill mannered gaze
Your winks cast a grave for in my righteous fall
The thread of your bare feet, mould the sand a face
If I mourn your smile, my days will ever dull.

The lavender from your ill coloured hair
Is sibling to the one, of warmth your breath
Did you heist from your breath, those sweet scented air?
If such crime is profound, so breathe ashore the earth.

You save for seasons pride, one atop your brow
I see lofty men, grown as old the sun
Trampling their proceeds at the feet of your glow
But I am loving and radical as a gun.

You're the angel that beholds pillars of hell
I am no dunce, from my pulsate you can tell.