All the girls in your city have a dog,
have something to ghost their
loneliness. You plant a rose by the
sea but it grows into a flood. No one
knows that water is an unforgiving
god. No one sees your hand holding
an apple bob, slipping into the gown
your mother died in. The bulbs are
blinking and the night flies are
gathering for the moon’s funeral but
tonight, you have run out of candy
the way you run out of childhood.
The star from the yard looks like a
bone. A boy said the dead are
coming to read a poem.
Born on a Friday in December, Fatihah Quadri Eniola is a young Nigerian poet whose work has been featured in The West Trade Review, The Shore, Agbowo and elsewhere. She is a nyctophobic gathering experience in Law in the Premier University of Ibadan.