It's been three days since I last felt the taste of my mouth. The yam has lost it's sweetness....
Pain licks the boundaries of tolerance, intensity
Searing. The pounding of a thousand housewives,
Ate away at my crown with reckless abandon
Not Iyan – the king of delicacies in all its supple
But agony: raw, real and relentless
"It is Iba!", proclaims the medicine man
Casting me such a disdainful look no benevolent
Bestow on one condemned to die
As though I was the architect of my own fortunes
Or lack of it
Then silence...not up there; around here
"Drink this! Bath with this!"
"Rub this on the land of the sun never shines! My fee
shall be –
Five thousand and not a kobo less.."
I parted my stench filled mouth in an effort of
"There shall be no haggling"…the fellow bellows
It's been three days since I last felt the taste of my
The yam has lost its sweetness,
The wine, its appeal
No missus reaches a tender hand to sooth
The dreadful ache tearing at my weary bones
I am lacking in wealth…
Plentiful in ill health
With bounteous bad luck
I"ve had a pain-filled life and now,
The respite I"ve long sought after will be mine
I"ve done the needful...like a man.
Beeni, I…Akanni, shall be said to have been a man
An abandoned man…a sick man
Pain sears in
Tearing at my insides. The pounding…the pounding of a
thousand housewives – sweat drenched.
I close my eyes
Welcome, the reaper!
There"s humming in my ears.
Rhythmically rising above the pounding…
There's a parade in the streets –
"My belle o..."
"My head o…"
Abraham Isaac Oluwatimilehin was born on the 31st of August, 1997. A literary aficionado with active interests in neo-poetry and creative writing, Abraham is a 200L student of Medicine and Surgery, College of Medicine, Ekiti State University, Ekiti State.