Musing

– Ọ̀dọ́jà The horticulturist says February is for flower Not for love, so I go into the field In search of plant I once dreamt of Until I find it, and touch and burn and soften under the fire pump of its flamy fingers, And not a metal can hold The frame of this body […]

That evening, the prophet singled me out & asked the church to fervently pray for me that in a vision, he pulled me out of a room of cobwebs & that an old woman in my father’s house hid my star in a black pot buried at the base of a baobab tree. Outside my […]