in aboriginal linguistic
as God’s eye became a stoke furnace
and our flicker of stronghold
along tobacco road
became a body of water
through the pipe of a Kabul
how do five digit of loins breath?
do we dance when the moon is dead?
do we dance when happiness
is a city in folklore?
we didn’t dance again as spawns wont
on homeward sires
Night in Lagos.The ebon of the night
The moon is a woman
Pisces savory smells
wooing heat dames
Specters awake to the ritual of
broken rib-cage dancing salutes to
cracking fires in flesh pot
Rock and spliffs
Ojo Taiye is a Nigerian poet. He is a twenty-three year-old microbiology graduate from Tansian University. He loves books and Anime, in that order. Taiye has some of his muddled thoughts published and forthcoming in Kalahari Review, Tuck Magazine, Lunaris Review, Elsewhere, and others.