My friend, how close are we again? My father and I, how close in prayer now? Mother, what’s going on— how come people swear forecasts are wrong— as though they’re not standing right here in the toiletries aisle with the rest of Brooklyn? As close as bronze oaks kissing in your second-floor windows— as close
as Ryerson Street to Park Avenue. Neighbor, forgive me, how close are we? Come on, talk to me. The Thunderclouds mimic well-meaning children dropping heirlooms upstairs. Even without childish wonder, I wander easily. Lightning whitens windows like the flashcards I kept to study Yoruba in Ibadan. There is no personal
space in a storm. I leave my clothes in my father’s head. There— another thunder as close as Ryerson to… as close as another Whitman who, half the time, already sits in my home hours before anyone answers— has already tried on my air forces, folded my khakis: hems creased slyly, pockets full of someone else’s belongings.
Dr. Dolapo Demuren (he/him) is a Nigerian-American writer from the Washington D.C. metropolitan area. He received his B.A. in Writing Seminars from Johns Hopkins University, M.F.A from Columbia University and Ed.D from the University of Southern California. He is a 2025 Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship Winner for his chapbook American Love Sonnets. His honors include a fellowship from the Cave Canem Foundation and The Academy for Teachers, as well as scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and nominations for the Pushcart Prize. His poems and other writings are featured or forthcoming in the Adroit Journal, Poet Lore, Poetry London, Prairie Schooner, The Maine Review, and elsewhere. He teaches creative writing at the University of Maryland College Park, where he is currently the associate director of the Jiménez-Porter Writers' House.
