DIVORCE
by Lola Shoneyin

 

Walking up to your gunky eyelids

has become a total bore.

 

Couldn’t care less

if you’re howling, dancing,

turning into a man under the wear

of the full moon’s wolfing stare,

doing fancy tricks

or plain whimpering.

 

As long as it’s not on my side of the fence.

 

Just keep your pawprints off my fuzz

and sniff on some other heating beneath.