Oye

“OYE” (“HARMATTAN”) [BY OHWOJEVWE ESE GANIYU] When On harmattan wings Flapped iced Into my oblongata cold Into moneyless sadness Of our Saussure’s paper Locked in Folic signified signifier In language Too much mystique in Folic signifier signified Till tides come When On glorious dawns day We acknowledge That those potholes We Wobbled our way through In Thorns trumpeted Into our ears Too congealed To hear Bata drums Hypnotizing us Into spag queens hall.