After Ilya Kaminsky’s Deaf Republic
Today, like every day—
Damp. Basketfuls
& Basketfuls of
Mangoes.
A child’s blood will ruin it all.

What happened was, a man
who runs the fruit market bit
off a Sergeant’s ear.
In act of resistance, he said.

What happened was, the Sergeant
aimed his rifle at the man’s groin.
In act of love, he said.
A child’s puppet crossed them
The child crossed to meet her puppet
The sergeant’s angry power crossed
child and puppet — they fell. Nirvana.

Note the way a mouth puts
a Knife around a mango.

And we’re gathered once again to
save another child’s blood
from overdosing faith & love.
We shovel a child down earth’s throat.

Note the way you feed a thing to your hunger.
e.g. Momma Tobe shovelled ten bloodied
mangoes down her mouth, and the
history of a whole nation is summarised.

If you’re to save anyone, first,
trim her country’s witch teeth,
the man who runs the fruit market, once said.

But we sit under trees in central market.
The wind sits. A sad man raises a folksong.
We open we mouths. We sing. We burn. We open
we mouths. We hungry. We echo. amen.

Okorie, Onyinyechi is a finalist of English and Literary Studies. She’s the interview editor at Arts Lounge; head of editorials at Afrostentors publishers. She edited poetry for The Muse No. 47, and served as the assistant editor for number 48. Her works have appeared on Feral Poetry, Praxis magazine, The Muse and elsewhere. She likes to think of herself as water. Find her on twitter @onyii_amor and Instagram @onyiireads