a poem by Olaitan Humble

Olaitan Humble

Olaitan Humble

Olaitan Humble is a writer, editor at The Lumiere Review and reader at Bandit Fiction. A Pushcart Prize nominee, his work appears/forthcoming in Chiron Review, HOBART, Rigorous Magazine, Ethel Zine, and Luna Luna Magazine, among others. He is currently an undergraduate at the University of Lagos.

stillborn chronicles

at an assembly
of spectacles & grey hairs
my falsetto voice grew intense

sizzle of the clear
skies hitting the earth
with my umbrage earthed

into the
ugly pride on the
surface of my cuticles

sissy tapped
my ears like i
used to do hers

before crying out
like mist cloudbursts
like berceuses settling

on children
& throwing them
off their merriment

in another
corner of the
gathering was my

second cousin
screwing her way
up an iroko in the woods

she fell

she bled



at the next
gathering it was
just the two of us:

my shadow & i
climbing the iroko
hoping not to die away

like the rest

who lost their ways

& today baba

chides us: rejoice!

you do not mourn a newborn