here, the mist made by the pyres of
dilapidated thatches for houses filters the anteversion of dogonyaro trees
happening outside their midline made by branches. durbans holding faded
browns below their grip, still oil on paper, the wires of a swallowed dam:
fermented waves of ash sand. i traced kano on every character blended for
retrospect — dusted the frame, looking for a hidden history. ilyass said
the backlog in the fire, as told by his grandfather, fell as inshaves for a void
in timbin giwa, holding grains of maghrib prayers to diffuse under the
candied rind of a dying sun. the light, almost gone to sunset, can be seen 
through a wormball backing ruins of the fire. faridarh discharges a smile 
into her cheeks for a snapshot behind that fragment of a wormball. there
should have been alarms! a passerby was fixed from top, milk, to bottom,
blue on the paper. he touches an arc of his black cigarette to the flag of his
country losing its thinness quickly as ash appears from an ode of fire.
i looked outside the ears of the building, the clouds like chalk drawings
over tall ancient buildings outlasting the urge to squelch a triplophonia
from the traverse of modal filters. faridarh fixes herself a view of my back,
crashing her palms into my pockets. whispered, was her wishes for the city
to exist, even this way, without the dancescape of smoke peeking behind
the concaving bones of unclawed nights in the back streets. she said her red
shawl is rukham aihmar to any boyʼs eye fluffed over her shoulders. she is
right because i cannot take promenades with her on the pavement outside
the museum & then, photograph a burning tree. yesterday was noncalendar
to a phoneme of leaves crinkling as odes, too, for fire — the mist we
saw, picturesque of a war pronounced from the tongue of a lighter.
but the accidental supplication
of a mubarak accompanied a cool breeze.

About the Author:

Israel Okonji (He/Him) is an artist of poetry, storytelling, and music. Mistaken to be from Gen Z, he is a ‘24 finalist for the Dan Veach Prize for Younger Poets; a Pushcart nominee, and a poetry editor for Akéwí magazine. His work has been in Brittle Paper, Hominum, The Milton Review, Bruiser Magazine, Poetry-as-promised, Aphelion, and more. He hopes to be a greater record collector than Craig Kallman. He also hopes to own a bungalow housing his family and his pets. He is openly obsessed with British singer Jorja Smith. Find him on X @izrltrcz.

Feature image by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash