The rooms woke before us,
staring at each other with closed mouths.
The curtain dropped behind the doors,
a silent tongue.
Quiet was somewhere—
like a mango tree, listening
to crickets crawl their somber music.
The same hand has touched us all.

The day shone bright and full,
but the sunset wore tattered light.
Goodnight, Nigeria.
A hungry man dreams of food in his sleep.
The family that drank gaari before bed
dreamed of drowning before dawn—
a nightmare each for everyone.

You can build a better dream
on someone else’s land,
tie the shackles around your neck,
like the trained, civilized pet you are—
thinking of escape,
yet lost in someone else’s room
on the path to the backdoor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by JC Gellidon on Unsplash