We present this work in honor of the Nigerian holiday, Democracy Day.

 

Our dreams are hindsights
travelling to the people under the earth
journeying down the cities
filling the centuries with sons
so fat they can’t pass the needle’s eye

Only the ointment keeps faith
in the hands of a daughter
preparing you for burial
the unleavened bread
calls forth mourners

And prostitutes eating bread
with hallowed hands.
Henna mingles with hungers
at the eleventh hour when
rejected pebbles fall like death
sentences on brown earth

This wine sets my eyes on edge
to stilled waters on barren hillsides
this wine red in the cup
the scarlet thread
the broken donkey
Linen breeches dyed in crimson.

The air is rich in prophecies and revolutions
within the olive tree
a copulation is a flame
burning the bush full of grass windows
the light shimmers upon the waters

Light is a quiver of arrows
Light is an earthquake
Light is a stormy wind
Light is a great cry
electric on bones and skulls

The bones are diving for flesh
The shrouds are dying in the stars
There is light in our loins.