(i)
My body is a crime scene
Call the cops
Cos you can’t hide the corpse
Mother says I need policing
The reason my thoughts, hair, face, dress
are always under scrutiny is because
Boys don’t get pregnant
You, lady, are always the victim
My body is a crime scene
Cordoned in red and yellow tape
“Do not cross”
Don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself
This body is the crime scene
(ii)
I fight my ordained lot of victimhood
To the nest of an acclaimed Sabum I landed
Bird of prey seeking to learn self defense
In my defense, I came vulnerable, pure hearted, naive.
“I service you on the field,
you service me off the field”
My body is a prize
Trophy to the hardworking master
Token of appreciation for a job well done
This body is the prize
(iii)
Average score in a course of distinction
Months of stalking and chasing the academic god
My lecturer says to get my rightful score
I must “appeal”
Appease the custodian god of marks divine
My body is a sacrifice
Shredded on the altar of good grades
Nectared juiciness poured out as libation
Grease to the marker’s rod
My body is the sacrifice
(iv)
You say I have the keys
to the life I can’t afford by my own means
Girl, use what you have
Get what you want
My body is the currency
Chip to the baby girl lifestyle
Power that bring strong men to their knees
This body is the price
My body is a crime scene
Shallow graves of concealed hurt
Cutting silence, culture’s mold
Image drive, don’t you dare make the News
Shocked acting, entreaties of solemnity
Faux outrage, media frenzy
My ultimate crime
is wearing this body
This body is the crime
About the Poet
Adeyemi Oluwafunmilayo Adebimpe is a writer who enjoys the outdoors, traveling, discovering new places, and meeting friends when she isn’t lawyering and trying to take over the world.
