reminiscing on home: circa April 2020
six feet apart like the length of my grandfather’s departure—
the distance between the earth’s body
and the mortals in the grave no hugs
no handshakes faint pleasantries laced
with caveats to be wary is to be safe
and would you rather be sorry when
you could be safe? they took
the sun away from us— we sought light from
the eyes of our bulbs taking a moment and
relishing the beauty of our chandelier
the makings of humans radiated our skin
we may perish for what we know not
we have mixed safety with lethargy
in the same bottle of sticky ethanol and
the sharp stench intoxicated me
fear knows no liberty peace was
in the mouth of a gun barrel in our cities—
uneasy were the streets of tyranny
it was a warzone in and out of our bodies
touch anywhere on your skin except
your own face you cannot afford
your own beauty with your own hands
we have always been viruses to ourselves
perhaps we never saw this network
has brought us this far if only my lover knew
the panacea for longing in our voices
she would pick my calls when we could not
find our way to meet with our graved bodies
across a border I knew she longed for my hands
like I craved her fingers in my mouth our minds
were constipated with urges I kept sleeping
By Tukur Loba Ridwan
Biography:

Tukur writes from a coastal axis in Lagos Island. His poems have been published in Libretto Magazine, Erogospel, Art Of Peace Anthology, Z Publishing (Best Emerging Poets 2019), Best New African Poets Anthology 2019, Nigiga Review, BBPC Anthology and elsewhere. He won the Brigitte Piorson Monthly Poetry Contest (March 2018) and shortlisted in few others.