the women |

they raise their voices      the way
fire raises smoke       & the rain answers

with a flood

It’s alright, I wanted to tell her. This vicious nature
that wakes us up inside,
tells us we’re alive,
               forces us to not look away–

And if you remember just one thing,
Babe, remember this: there once were
Corals here. Living things in vibrant hues beneath our waters, not these
Dead husks fully slaughtered by the will of
Ego-driven billionaires chasing profit over people,

no
I will not
be your princess
no matter how you layer me
in silks and pearls
no matter the finery of your tailors
these gowns will never fit
this strange body that binds my soul

Somewhere in Nigeria: in Lokoja, Lagos,
Somewhere in Abia, Adamawa, Anambra,
some houses have become dams.
People have become Hagfish.
Roads have turned to rivers.

she makes a pond
in petals pluck’d (forget-me-)
planted in the upturn’d dirt
of graves.

her arms all dark,
disinterred bone dust (dancing girls)
her lungs weigh’d down
with growing things.

They slink in, hats drawn
low against their faces.
                                        I hear
                    you find things out. I hear
                    you're willing to do things
                    for cold hard cash. I hear
                    you know something of poisons.