poetry column

Cento

By Michael Okafor I promise you this poem won’t have any laughter.I have squandered all the joy inside me. I am tiredof carrying myself. Most days I pretend to be dead.Nobody knows where this poem ends—this poemthinks it’ll end happily.…

Take All My Wilting Roses, Lord

By Flourish Joshua Sneak the amens out of the cathedral, I wantto make love to them for my supplications.  The goal, as it should be, is to outwit the wilt,smear joy on the walls of my room, necklace my laughter.…

Sun City

By Káyọ̀dé The foggy morning splitsmy lower lip, blistersthe flesh that refuses to submit to its whiteness. I slip outof the embrace of my mother’s Ankara—and no blanket warmth rivals its old snug fragrance.I am twenty rivers and hectaresof forests…

Matchstick

By Arikewusola Abdul Awal It begins with love: the flame of misery,wanting to be let loose from a kiss— brown eagerness mistakes a landmine foran orchard and runs into a dance of explosion. Somewhere, a life reachesIts climax in flames.…

New Man

By Marvellous Mmesomachi Igwe Bone-white night. Dead world. All about me, a shimmering river of silver, knife-lit lake of quiet. I have opened my eyes into an inferno of colour. Caribbean sky. Broad leaves and their lemon gaze. Of the…