Bodies Melting in the Ironies of Reflection

my body is wrapped in the flames of discerning 
some chemistries in this city of an empty sky,
such as—is it wrong for a girl at five to fondle
the beautiful image her mirror is?

my skin cinders in the scorching-ness of studying
the art of remedying a sick world into ice and water. 
to say that every try to cry for the Innocence of birds 
is my brothers colouring me of another blood.

in this city bereft of atmosphere, every day is
a myriad of bodies learning—birds internalising the art 
of flapping wings beneath the sky because 
every step closer to the moon, the stars, the trees,

is a tsunami in heaven or a volcanic
eruption in the cold hands of paradise. 
-a father is a mirror of striking reflections-
but behind our roach-infested windows

are deep mutilations smoldering in a girl’s voice and
body whose thighs melt in the ironies of reflection.
but to seek fairness is to become scarred 
by groins enveloped in zombified lust.

yesterday, when another spoilt egg broke,
stenched across, i said that “tomorrow,
there will be grey markets of insects” and here 
we are, bushy grimy hairs of buzzing mosquitoes.

“rest in peace. in perfect peace!” called a man
who never allowed her to take off in imperfect pieces.
as we ferry them with fire in place of flowers, 
may they fly with iring claws while they live?

A Song of Grief in the Pandemic

mother’s wrapper swayed in the dense silence 
i & my little sister stood with her; a-P/a-R/t. 
we watched father laid afar in isolation.
our lives cocooned in a corner of a compound 
packed in the spookiness that puffs
of a thing freezing out gales back to dust.

on the TV: a drowning body dressed the net over his face.
he preached living a pandemic life.
something of leaves turning statues!
so our bodies skin thicker into strangers 
with every itch that strikes.

while after, father’s sneeze subdued us into roaches
seeking God’s mercy in dirty holes 
& the next minute had him sliced
into another thousand names 
that rubble us to debris of grief.

Etudaye Musa Abdulazeez is a 22-year-old graduate of Mass Communication from Bayero University, Kano. He hails from Okene LGA in Kogi State. To him, writing is a great passion, the only way through which real freedom can be achieved. His interest lies in writing, community services, social advocacy, and impact through teaching. Etudaye presently lives in the ancient city of Kano. His works have appeared in Daily Trust, Afripost, Artsloungency, TheCampusWatch, Quenu and others. He is the Project Manager of WeCan Africa Initiative. He can be reached on Facebook as Etudaye Musa Abdulazeez and Twitter @Etudaye_MA.