Rite
KWEKU ABIMBOLA
Douse my skull. Take your / hands and comb my hair— / then, plait it. Surprise me, weave my hair / into something terrible. Into the flourish / you fear. Because if you don’t, I’ll know. // If I open my eyes and have nothing / to shelter my scapula and clavicles / from Asamando’s wind, I’ll know.
Douse my skull. Take your / hands and comb my hair— / then, plait it. Surprise me, weave my hair / into something terrible. Into the flourish / you fear. Because if you don’t, I’ll know. // If I open my eyes and have nothing / to shelter my scapula and clavicles / from Asamando’s wind, I’ll know.
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