Dealing with the unnatural heat

osahon oka poetry feb 2021

The trees threw away their clothes waiting for harmattan.

He never came. Who locked the gates of wind? The sun

boiled the oranges into rust & the birds grew gills to swim

the heat. How many twirling fans died that year when we

gathered swollen leaves from sun baked drains? Even the

air conditioning breathed like a bloated river. The price

of water went up; even kisses were hard to come by. The

houses grew lean with thirst no matter how greedily they

sucked on our skins. The rivers all looked askance; they

were wet with the sun’s tears yet they could not run.

Sometimes the clouds peeped through the keyhole & threw

their laundry water through the window. Sometimes they

gathered as if ready to conquer a city then they fled. Who

pursued them from the battlefield, does anyone know?

Some old wives said if you open your door at noon, the

devil was there cooking. Who dragged hell closer to

here? Who knew what wounded the wings of dust; they

never did rise with the sun. Nobody heard the siren of the

Sahara. It was said someone tied her lips with the footprints

of immigrants & terrorists. Some said she choked on the

bones of old sand dunes tired of waiting for the sea. It was

green into January & he had no teeth to eat December’s

children. Now they are raising the portcullis in the kingdom

of rain. There must be a war in the heavens because

harmattan never came.

Osahon Oka is a Nigerian poet who sees writing as an opportunity to experiment with language, a way to show the world what he thinks, and a means to offer a reflection of his lived reality. His writing has appeared in several literary spaces including, but not limited to, Jalada Africa, Lit Quarterly, Lucky Jefferson, Down River Road Review, Dust Poetry Magazine, Lit Break Magazine, Afreecan Read, and elsewhere. He serves as Lead Correspondent at Praxis Magazine. He can be reached on twitter at https://twitter.com/OsahonOka