Not my business by Niyi Osudare

16:10 - 02 June 2015

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The poet cannot be bothered, supposedly. Once his yam still reaches his mouth, there is no need.

They picked Akanni up one morningBeat him soft like clayAnd stuffed him down the bellyOf a waiting jeep.What business of mine is itSo long they don’t take the yamFrom my savouring mouth? They came one nightBooted the whole house awakeAnd dragged Danladi out, Then off to a lengthy absence.What business of mine is itSo long they don’t take the yamFrom my savouring mouth? Chinwe went to work one dayOnly to find her job was gone: No query, no warning, no probe -Just one neat sack for a stainless record.What business of mine is itSo long they don’t take the yamFrom my savouring mouth? And then one eveningAs I sat down to eat my yamA knock on the door froze my hungry hand.The jeep was waiting on my bewildered lawnWaiting, waiting in its usual silence.