(after Samuel Adeyemi’s ‘body as a metaphor for war’)
for Iniubong Umoren
a girl doesn’t just become an arsenal
of rage and grief in this country. a pop-up
wreaks a havoc on my body like a lake
ruffled by large mass of pebbles, knifing it.
every skin of the message is like a garlic
squashed against the eyes, watermarking my cheeks
with legible tears. she ran into a carapace of web for a job
in order to barricade inlets of poverty from flooding
into her family’s home. but at the bare chest of Abuja,
she was sequestered from the earth, drowned in dunes
after her meeting with a ravenous man in sheep’s clothing.
i become locked up in a dark room of wonder:
when did we get here where boys are a metaphor for Cruelty?
