My Body is a Crime Scene


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


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


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


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.

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