Poetry in a Global Box: République du Bénin

Zino Asalor

THE LAST PAGE

(For Bola’s Sister)

we wrote, we read

we ripped pages, we wrote again

but our eyes have met the last page

of a poem book, watching

the evanescent glow of a sun

that ought never to set

face-to-pen we sit under the glint of a window sill

that holds the history of your smile

Omote

words cannot be written

on the last page of blessed memory

our tears may stain them

© by Zino Asalor