Ayoola Goodyness Olanrewaju writes

mother and snores

my sleep stood on the tip of my tongue 

it tasted sour mixed into a steam of anger 

for mother and her snores...

but 

it became a foolish anger...

when her snores spelled the letters of my name 

when they told me the tales of my survival in her toils 

when they spoke of her weaves for my dreams 

when they molded and became the troubles i had caused her...

i am her snores...

so i smiled cries 

and yielded my sleep for her unspeakable love 

the love in her snores...

yet they became my lullabies 

and clothed me sweet repose...

o mother...

i love it in your nostrils...

 -- Shekira Farrell