Response to Fiyinfoluwa Oladipo’s “Dusk”



Because the sun now slumps into midnight,
His weight willing down the world
The same way a four-year-old might pull down
Curtains, I am compelled to become crazy, maddened
By the inevitability of this soundless, dumb
Cul-de-sac inventing sound—the possibility of moths
Learning to feel the weight of the wings against their bodies,
The ground flaring up into a monotonous hymn at sunset, and
The month of April leaning through the burglar bars asking Oga-Madam
If she wants the compound walls scrubbed dry. I fear,
Because the evening will soon dare to ask: will you ever come home?

Fiyinfoluwa Timothy Oladipo




I dream

In the intimate semi darkness of an afternoon
It was a lumber dream
The stupor of pounded yam
I was at the burial
People lined up
To wish me farewell
I saw them all
Feeling sad, feeling empty
I walked away
To another dream
It was now a birthday
And my naming ceremony
Mum was happy
Showing me off to the pastor
I dreamt anew, again
The sun kissing the moon
At my wedding reception.


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