To live is to be evil,
You just need to spell it the other way around.
unmask | a poem by Damilola Omotoyinbo
when you get the last piece / of the puzzle / don’t walk alone / search this street for your kind
WHAT BRIGHTON SAYS ON A SUMMER EVE & IF LAGOS KNEW (two poems by S. Su’eddie Vershima Agema)
If Lagos knew, it would change, if only for one moment
to breath in deep in awe of this nativity
Bethlehem slept but Lagos hustles on another sunny day.
And as another placenta gets buried
Eko’s beauty is crafted in the sound of another infant cry.
ÈKÒ (a poem by Jamiu Ahmed)
in this city of crowded histories, where hurrying feet run after
the skyline like a masquerade chasing a lunatic over a pilfered naira note.
A PORTRAIT OF PORT-HARCOURT(a poem by Nket Godwin)
where is the rainbow i often found
in the sky of returning lips
oh port harcourt whose pots are courts
where meat arbirates fingers
sọ́kà (a poem by Adedayo Agarau)
in another room,
we found femurs
the latitude of
suffering
MONSIEUR PARISCOPE & FRESCOES: FLORENCE, DECEMBER 1989 (two poems by Kate Meyer)
We stepped out from my
borrowed flat in the Marais, under
the Renaissance arches of the Place
des Vosges and the formalities of
the Hotel de Sully, into the squalid
modernities of far-flung banlieu
where a cathedral lurks amongst
market debris.
THIS CITY SHAN’T BE MY CAULDRON!(a poem by Olajuwon Joseph Olumide)
where is the rainbow i often found
in the sky of returning lips
oh port harcourt whose pots are courts
where meat arbirates fingers
A BOY’S CITY (a poem by Odemakin Taiwo Hassan)
a weird mix of pain and nostalgia latch on to my
tongue. this city moulded me too, in ways too many to mention.
CEMETERY & THE MAGIC AROUND HERE (two poems by Chisom Charles Nnanna)
Here, boys are men, and girls
are no ladies— no—they’re no less the man
who shoulders a house for a living—frankly. And
it’s no child abuse, it’s the hustle.