God, My Fantasies are High Above Me

By Adesope Ogunlade

                                 Photo Credit: Peyablo

GOD, MY FANTASIES ARE HIGH ABOVE ME

  —up in the air

jelly like white smokes

oozing out of a damp wood.

i am a quarry of sanity. say 

every pore on my body is a wound 

of chisel-mouthed diggers, track 

of trailers or footprint of whatever

had left me,

deserted as desert and dense like rainforest.

everytime i look into myself, a 

cloud of cosmos lay before me, gleaming 

in my eyes like silt. i don't know, God, 

i don't know if this is a way of climbing 

into your arms: but i will like to hold 

the furry face of the sun for you; and stand on 

a stool, rake the stars with my claws,

suspend the moon, like crucifix, with a

noose around my neck. God, you will 

be thrilled to choose an angel over me?

but you know, i am a cat with scraped

paws: lost and untraceable on this hard

land. a fellow poet still think i brew

metaphors while a friend, drunk in 

his legs, come to ask me of when i will 

see your fairies, conveying the dead soul 

of his sister and other congregation in

the St. Francis Catholic church at Owo 

on their shoulders, 

stop to drink under the tall-mainland bridge. 

but, God, 

i don't see it. i only sniff the aromated stench 

of mockery in his grief; one can say he'd only try 

to plant his rotten seeds with tattered hope.

one can say i, too, lost in imagination, is

a road to hell, full of stumbling rocks. i 

don't know, God, i still don't know if this 

is a way of saying it: but.. it's.. like there's 

a cinema in my head and when i've got to 

see it, it's like a vegetation of elephant grasses 

set ablaze. God, i don't see the fire but the 

smokes are white and jelly

like one erupting from a chimney

dancing up in the air.

                                        

Adesope Ogunlade is a young writer/poet. His works appear in the FIFWA bimonthly anthology–Issue One and PIJAlance Inaugural Issue. He writes from Ibadan.