October

Tenth finger

of the year’s crowded hand

you burst into view with cagey columns

in the architecture of your laughter:

*

round(ed) banters

octagonal delight

a parabola of proverbs

circles and circles of bended days...

*

October-red

Northern forests inflame the sky

awaiting the chilling uprising

that comes after the fall

*

October-red

the air, heavy, still,

with the parting footsounds

of the legal petrel who rode the seas

*

To meet the skies, asking how

Dele’s parallax snapped

and how many pieces of silver

the Generals paid to purchase our silence

*

October-red

birth-month of my fabled country:

the house that Lugard built

creaks dangerously in every joint

*

The guardsmen are half asleep

reason seems in permanent retreat

Hope lives in a room

with hidden keys

*

October-red

Every month has its own secret

Every secret has its own month.