This Is Not A Poem 001

“only he who is benefiting from the chaos prays a committee of drunken gods to prolong the days of a virus”

– Jaachị Anyatọnwụ

last night, suleiman said to me:
“do not worry, there’s hope for Nigeria”
his words were a guillotine around my neck
its grip of death tightening– like an
undersized brassiere clasp grasp a full breast–
threatening to choke reality for delusion’s gain

& when i wriggled free, i replied suleiman:

2023, like 2010 & 2015, will mean nothing.
joe’s breathe of fresh air choked to death
mo’med’s change short-changed everything
pray tell, how isn’t it delusional to happily
stand by the seashore
in anticipation
of the return
of seamen
whose
skulls
are
become
underwater caves
to a dying octopus?

only he who is benefiting from the chaos
prays a committee of drunken gods
to prolong the days of a virus

This is not a poem…