When There Are No Mates Poem by Oyehan Opeyemi Akinkunmi

Few moons gone on your new blood,
sleeping with your fathers
and grands
What can they say?
Life timed for a nod of not.
Inherited the Old ways
When there are no mates
of equal propositions but high,
the young damsel in captive,
lost to Old fat cargoes
synical old rulers of critics
engulfing the meals of the sons
drinking meritoriously
recrystallised, thewed, pressed
heaven-only-knows juice
of the white,
stealing our Jewels off sight.
-our sisters favours the minds thus.