When I was ready to quit, I oiled my 4c scalp instead.
I plaited neat cornrows until my forehead shone.

​I broke boiled yam into red oil sauce.
I watched the oil drip, then licked the salt from my knuckles.

​I swept the verandah. I watered the hibiscus.
I stood under the bougainvillea and stripped for my boyfriend.

​I ate grapes. I argued color bias with my mother.
I told her Nigeria is home.

I wrote the things my friends told me to burn.
​I swam. I let the water fill me.

I wrote more—on myself, on others,
and the mess of the Nigerian reintegration system.

​Before I go, I will do more.
I’ll probably marry my person.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Jingxi Lau on Unsplash