journey with me into games of the earth;
Game of leaves and trees housing the elders
in the placid wind of the night,
sketching muse from the gourds of palmwine.
Let us play the skyline with our hidden logos
on the face of tribal marks,
of Gombo,
Pele,
Abaja,
drawing maps on the soil of Oyo, Ibadan, and Ikare.
Let us tussle the game of lines;
of strength,
of bravery,
of fight,
of my father’s farm,
deciding the courage-foot to unsoil the line.
Let us gamble with the game of wedlock;
of blood,
of white hankie,
of my woman’s first entrance
to determine if protected
from the sniffing men’s sledge.
Let us amuse a game of theatre in an open stage;
inscribing lines with whips
of Igunuko,
Elegbodo,
Eegun Alare,
and other colourful masquerades,
who appease the gods only in the parched season.
Let
us
play
a
game
of
eke*
to find out the warrior of the land.
Let us open the buttock of a fowl,
with lyrics,
idioms,
proverbs,
rhyme,
rhythm,
to write the lines about my father’s diary.
* eke means a fight called wrestling in Yorubaland.
Author Bio:
Nureni Ibrahim is a budding writer based in Nigeria. His poems have been published in Best New African Poets 2016 Anthology, The Red Pendulum, The Mamba Journal of African Haiku Network, Shamrock Haiku Journal and many more.