Thanks for the aroma of Iya Wasiu’s eguisi
And for alerting me that Jelili’s contaminating
the beautiful air with a silent bomb
Thanks for revealing the scents that come
From the fair ladies that passed by
And the killing sweat- smell from
the guy that walked by
You warned of the danger to eat beside
the greenish water at grandma’s door step
Thanks for telling me a rat just died under my bed
And for making me take in foods I didn’t eat
But why did you not make me smell that
Ade – my friend is about to stab at back?
And that Bisola is about to depart with
the pot-bellied thief in Agbada
Why didn’t you alert me of the death
that took Yetunde from his lover?
Or that my friend was the pain-giver
who masked me with love
Why can’t you tell me that the
one who blows my dirty eyes
has mouth filled with ground pepper?
Wicked are you
Cruel are you
Is this the manner at which you’re created?
Is this the heart the Creator had given you?