“i swear, by the holy book, to tell the truth, 
the whole truth and nothing but the truth. so help me God”

in Sunday school, the teacher likens hypocrisy
to a pious man with skeletons in his closet
& asks that we give other forms. 
so, i make a list in my notebook:

a mortal vowing forever
                 to another.
the benignity in rejection mails.
                                                               
the climate activist in the estate
                 whose Perkins hums through the night.
                                                      
nefarious statesmen with memoirs
appraised as testaments of service
to humanity.

the relief my canister offers.
telling you “i am fine” over the phone, 
between labored breaths & chest aches.

but, unlike them,
                 i commit hypocrisy because
                 i hate to see your black strands 
                 turn grey.

Olaore Durodola-Oloto is an imagist poet from Lagos, Nigeria. His works appear in Brittle Paper, Kalari Review, The Crossroads Review, Anthropocene Poetry, ANMLY and elsewhere. He tweets @olaore_philip.

Poetry submissions to thursdaypoems@gmail.com