by Rolands Ndu Akpe
Bar-front, Warehouse Bus-stop.
Type of woman I can't have sex with
Sachet of Squadron caught between her teeth
Is it the wind?
Burma Road, Apapa
Canals lanes canals lanes canals
Here lays creeping viscosity-
the growing din of microorganisms
Louder louDER LOUDER.
The louder the smaller this flung day old grows:
Humus, scrolling rodents, stretching grasses, filled condoms…
THESE AGED NIGHTS
In a bus, at night, through Apapa
scared of knees,
girls', they skip,
like I do not look
Drawn away by maternal arm of bus…
Noon,walking past a brothel front.
It's Apapa again
Jaunting calves, neck of thighs
Veiled in hijabs begging eyes
to see through
I seek a sidewalk, sit
This erection on tuck-in'd frame embarrasses
HIT AND RUN, RUIN
Incognito of shadows
Traffic lights shrouded black,
blinded by veil of politics, neglect
Hide limbs, these
torso askew: Old woman lay there
LIVERPOOL MORNING MARKET
Bent prawns like everything shriek loud in death
Stink sweet sour loud
Here at Liverpool, under the bridge, by the waterside
A conurbation of haggling.
Still-life of aroma, redolence, loud.
Tastiest China-men I ever saw
Tastiest China-women I ever saw
Stacked, wavy, complexion the complexion of China-man
There ya'll lay colourfully toga'd in flowery gowns of adverts
Here, too, by this road stand unrealised dreams of chicks-
Sizzle; Together: lunch
We eat you
SPECTATORS AND FISTICUFFS
"…except the Lord watch a house, its watchmen watch in vain."
You are cautious
Paying premium you skirt, skirt frays
But a stray, stray something…punch leaves your smile
Incisors, gone gone.
ACHIEVED YOUR KPI?
At a monthly performance review. 9, Wharf Road, Apapa.
Suits ties camisole jackets
These shoes shine for a living
Feet quake here for a reason-
Quake, feet, quake.
Your 3-month old won't understand your forced retirement
Writes as Rolands Ndu Akpe. Ibadan man born of Ukwuani parents. Banker, Agricultural Economist by training, a reader not a writer. Tweets as @Bloody_Voyeur. Reading Nigerian tax laws, at the moment, for fun.