The Hope of Floating Has Carried Us So Far – Precious Arinze
I worry I can’t love my friends out of the worst
of themselves. I am hurrying towards a place where
my mother and I can love each other without first
disguising who we are. I want to get there faster
than time can kill us.
Tree Walk with Frog and Toad – Makshya Tolbert
We put our shirts
in our mouths
muffling ribbit
ribbit
Some days I want
a vocabulary of the body
Mosque at Hadejia – Ridwan Badamasi
What I understand of God is
His silence. The Imam, who yesterday
prayed for a man who’d descended
into the wrappings of a straw mat
says the story of man is flux and fire.
You Would Love It Here, I Promise – Tawiah Mensah
I still speak, with a stutter.
I read a story once
about a girl who gathered her anger and her warmth, set herself on fire,
and never let out a cry.
I envy her strength and thirst after her freedom
Cacti in a Beautiful Woman’s House – Segun Agbaje
I want a condition to bloom out of me,
That I witness the sunset and my mind
Finds peace in you, in my dreams, in
The toil of my hands. I want salvation
Like your laughter, like water
Idiosyncrasy – Toju Lusan
In my dream, I wander naked
into the past where the rain
is dark and hot and no wonder
we are so blemished. I know
the taste of regret
“How Nurses Recruited from Zimbabwe Are Being Caught in UK ‘Bonded Labor’ Schemes’’ – Zibusiso Mpofu
I once faked a queer hate crime
to get a police report.
I thought I could use it
to get asylum somewhere
Wishes [In Reverse] – Michael Emmanuel
or the earth could be kinder.
plant you between the sea and the ship. strapped to floating
wood. inheriting flotsam. or in a foreign country reading
a map in a foreign language, picking clues towards an eatery
What The Body Houses – Precious Arinze
Perhaps, that is what living is.
The loss we inflict on our being to survive a little longer.
If I alter my body to fit in the world, does that make me more or less
deserving of it?
عشق – Ola Elhassan
holding space for erasure we learned to savour what survived
crescent moon sunrises that insist on lengthening evening waves
lulling eyes to greet the day away by folding themselves into sleep
Till You Call Us by Name – Tawiah Mensah
I was born with a colour that sits with the sun,
And tells stories about cracked clay pots and fighting women. I was born with arrows drawn on my face,
showing men with claws where to dig in and feast.
Jana – Zaynab Iliyasu Bobi
Reporter: her body. plays three bullets. strays
into three bullets. stays in three bullets. like the myth.
about Lulu. having nine lives.
