The Requiem of A Hobo, poetry by Salim Yakubu Akko at

The Requiem Of A Hobo

The Requiem of a Hobo

written by: Salim Yakubu Akko


my body was eaten, like a fruitless plant by the wind.
mother sat with her perched mouth
supplicating for a safe home.
but it’s never the same; the road was painted grey.
I looked into the eyes of the rumbling sky
then a voice came, broke the door & chewed the cayuse. then my legs hovered, like a cursed lame.
I’d no burrow—a place I could call home. and the winter wind gave me a blanket of cold, and there, I read the threnody of a bum. and I wrote a requiem—how I slept in the cold; how I died and resurrected in the winding wind. I wrote in silence, “if I’d have known, I wouldn’t have stepped out from mother home.” I missed the soft palms of grandmother. I missed the poems of my bed. I missed home.

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