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.
Copyright © Ohwojevwe Ese Ganiyu | Year Posted 2017
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