Little Inhabitants The poet wakes in the middle of the night to find that his room, Barely enough for his lean body, is a megacity for the little Inhabitants. Roaches are going and coming, each one with A different sense of urgency, some slow as clumps of dew, Others civil servants in love with the …
The phone rang. I picked it up at the first beep. “Waziri, how are you?” “Fine sir. And you?” “Have they called you?” “No sir.” “These people! Don’t worry, I will sort it out.” The conversation ended within thirty seconds. This was around noon on Tuesday, 23rd February 2016. I did not have to probe. …
Èjìrẹ́, Aráìsokún, ẹdunjobi, Ọmọ ẹdun tí ń ṣeré orí-igi. Ọ̀kan ni mo bèrè, èjì ló wọlé tọ̀ mí wá. You were asleep when you were born, in my hand, your reflection split into two. The men who were hired to forsake your silence brought drums & took you out to it. I looked back at …
