The Routine… Poem by Chika Nwokeoma

Today is Saturday
Tomorrow will be Sunday
The day after that will be Monday…

I will sit up from my bed
As usual
With a yawn
like the first cry of a newly born
questioning the new beginning;
as the almighty sun quivers across the horizon.

Time to get up
Up I must,
Then down on my sleepy knees
To perform the known ritual
As I had been taught

The driver comes to drop me off
..Off to this place
Where I teach the juggling of alphabet and numbers;
In different forms, patterns and methods.

My audience are monsters and radicals
From different culture and background
Imbibed with tricks and naughtiness
Listening more with their wide fish-like eyes
to ears
Staring at me as priest to their gods
As they are taught new tricks.

At the set time of the day
When monsters and radicals
With tricks and naughtiness
Disperses

Leaving trails of chunks and sweat
Leaves with bags filled with books
Books filled with alphabets and number
In different forms, patterns and methods

I gather my used self
Pack my bag,
My only belonging in the environment
Filled with educational knick knacks
And vanity
Set off where it begins.

Tomorrow will be Saturday
The next will be Sunday
After that; Monday
The routine…