Rerouting
the sun oils the stadium in lilac remorse: sky-angelo
paintbrush leaving the day colourblind.
dawn folds into masking tape,
rolls us onto a crosswalk—en route to Lagos.
placard-carrying youths hold towards God the crime that keeps a moustache.
as if to say: look how the heavens veto our future.
I resign to the simple wonder that his torso area
often seemed sullied by urine. man diapers. a walking latrine.
when I wax lyrical, your countenance prays
for the blade of my tongue.
liquid worship—blunting your body
from the stabs of my curse words.
you misplace language in every river you swim.
in the year of migration, I sit—unmoved by water,
dip my fingerling toes as clickbait:
a shoal of lost boats, breeding underneath.
a sailor drags his burden of shipwreck
unassisted, across seas,
& cowries come roost on my knee.
walnuts, breaking on a whim of leaf.
each day, I take part in history,
prop my dripping fist against plastic—
as if to lay in wait of a snail.
imagine you scoop yourself from home soil,
as if by genetic transplant:
the failed horticulturist’s move that leaves you
to wilt on another man’s border,
biting hard on a balustrade tethered to the Union Jack.
mouth agape to oxygen & the architectural praise for a national anthem.
your incisor inherits the sun’s beam in a shouting light.
the stadium cheering you on
as you make your way back to us.
Samuel Samba (he/him/his) is an indigenous writer of poetry & other works of art. Samuel’s works have been previously published or forthcoming in Australian Poetry Journal, Australian Access Poetry, PRISM Magazine, Westerly, Hills Hoist Magazine, Munster Literature & elsewhere. He got an honourable mention in the 2022 Christopher Hewitt Award in Poetry.
swim meet lit mag 