Ojo Taiye writes

A Grieving Violin

I thought:

You were a minaret calling men

to worship

I thought:

You were euphonious symphony

of a banjo

I thought:

You were a scab over a thorn

That was a cupid arrow snapped into two

I thought:

You were Juliet and I your

Romeo

I thought:

You were ambrosia for this

left chest that moons

I thought:

You were the apotheosis

in a gallery of rotten memories

I never knew

These are illusions

That:

You are a geyser

Spitting from my H

You are the twitching gnaw

That must be exorcised

              Parthenon mosque -- Marc Brownlow.