How long will I stay in some nested genes?
You may not know this:
I am the reason my father is a parrot.
Each time he pays my tuition fees, he
returns home with some kind of names for me,
names as sharp as a butcher’s knife –
names I do not know their clans.
Whenever he is home, I do not want the day to begin,
I just want it to end –
I named them into scenes of a tragic movie.
This day wakes with my father’s words on its palm,
how he drowns in his sweat to sweeten my soul,
how he saw a certain boy on the television competing
for a trophy or some kind of name,
how he spotted some guys on dreadlocks
with tattoos on their skins drawn in different languages.
He remembers me and kneel to God on my behalf.
And again, like always, I feel like not waiting
for the gathered cloud to free its burden.
My mother teaches me endurance.
Each time she sees me, she says the future is light.
All I wanted is to tote the future to the present
so my name would be etched on Guinness
world book of record,
but mother said I may not survive it
for my bones are still feeble,
and my wings are too short a bird
to fly around this cruel world.