Ephemeral

by Ubongabasi Iyanam

the evening is the color of things

that sway before the sun in dry season.

like myself, a boy basking in the tenderness

of kisses. I dissolve into my mother's arms,

& I am learning how home makes

two bodies permeable.

say, earth is the anatomy that teaches

the sea, she too, like breeze

can touch the heavens. I trace the skin

of my little self in search of where I am

no longer this incandescent, where

I can no longer chase tires towards the

horizon. I will only find fifteen years

later, the bitter nature of beauty is its transience.

but you only realize the sun is asleep

after the darkness crawls up your eyelids.

the way cherry blossoms look alive

until it snaps into the grave.

at the end of this song, I am a man

leaning on the window of the bus home.

I wonder how I have become this mango

tree that resembles my father.

where I alight, I find an old lady seating

on the pavement. I caress the wrinkles on her

face, and find all the lines that pointed

me back to my mother. I recline into the family portrait.