​​Alton and Aaliyah by Dolapo Demuren

Alton and Aaliyah
by Dolapo Demuren

I had to play make-believe with my sister:
had to come to tea, to baking class,

to the hospital for checkups, to the aid
of an ailing insect with family in Kentucky,

Aaliyah would say one day, or Tanzania
another. Even if my entrance or profession

were different, I played the same man,
had the same purpose: to be visible,

to find a way around walls, announce
my absences promptly, discern

how much longer we could go on,
be father. I told her the things I wanted

her to believe: that the droves of clouds,
invisible at night, buffalo’d east

and would come back, that those stars
blotted by the metropolitan air were hidden

because they needed rest, that if we moved
I would grab one for her, and plant it

in an empty cardboard box
so that part of this sky could follow us. 

When Aaliyah slept, her braids glistened  
with oil, glinted with the thousand eyes

of her imagination. By then, I’d already crept
in bed beside mother in the other room—

stuck in wonder over the promises
father left in our heads when he left.

Hear Dolapo Demuren recite the poem on the Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast:

Dolapo Demuren is a Nigerian-American writer from the Washington D.C. metropolitan area. He received his B.A. in Writing Seminars from Johns Hopkins University and M.F.A from Columbia University. Currently, he is a doctoral candidate in Education at the University of Southern California. 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. His poems and other writings are featured in the Adroit Journal, Frogpond Journal, Prelude Magazine, and Small Orange Journal. He teaches creative writing at the University of Maryland College Park, where he is currently the Associate Director of the Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House.