Excerpts First Published by Words, Rhymes, and Rhythm
Tonight,
My heart walks through Bariga market
When the voice of a middle-class worker
Debating on the price of
A half derica of garri,
Tapped my shoulders…
“200 Naira?!”
“Madam, no bi 150 Naira again?”
He swallowed the anger boiling inside him
And gulped down his cooking frustration
Towards Nigeria,
Before taking his leave.
That’s all he’s gonna have for supper;
Boiled anger.
Cooked frustration.
No garri to soak.
