The murky borderland near Dahomey. 
Thatched roofs that house hoes & cutlasses 
& yet farmers appease the god of rain. 

The marginalized village of smugglers 
who die like mosquitoes 
in the bloody hands of khaki men. 

How miserable amenities are unnecessary 
in the kingdom where ballot boxes 
must reach & where heads shall queue 
under the scorching sun to vote in oppressors. 

& for hands to write & for tongues to read, 
legs bear the risk of taking the wards 
of the poverty-stricken fathers to afar. 

When sickness conquers our immune system, 
we think of how to die & where to die;
whether under our leaking roof 
or in the empty hospital. 

When I think of my hometown, 
pure tears embrace my poor cheeks. 



____

Moshkur Ajikobi (fondly called P-Seven) is a student of English language in Lagos State University. His work appears or forthcoming in Punk Noir Magazine, Lunch Break Zine, Rather Quiet, Coven Poetry, Riverbed Review, Brown Bag Online and elsewhere. He has published numerous ebooks (anthologies and short stories). He is the brain behind Rub Bitch With P-Seven, a free weekly newsletter. You can find him on twitter @almoshkur and Instagram @peeseven20.