This is how you smell in the afternoon


Like the scent of my lover's ghost,
A girl's hair fell out from her head yesterday
God could not pick it until she got swallowed.
This is me donating a bandage to poetry
To ease pains from those people insane,
This is me donating blood to linage dirge,
To commemorate the agony of your dance.
Mother said the only great place to dance is between the legs of fighters in the battlefield.


I will bury you in the glistening edge of my pen
For the sake of words and hyping of blood.
I know the scent of my lover's body in the morning when red roses withstand legs
waiting to get murdered in the afternoon.
Let me put you through this call & hear god
Tell you this is how you smell in the afternoon
Like African poverty and their sinful desires
Like African corruption and their election.


This is how you smell in the afternoon before
The kiss from the sun unmasked your feelings,
Like the pages of Nigerian jolted sorrows.
Soonest, salty sultan embraces will have
Your welcome in the palm of morning moon.
I won't shine some light to your thoughts,
But I will make the windful words to quench
the tales in your beaming lustful eel eyes
And the galaxies of stars shall gather to say amen to this rhetorical questions in your mouth.


This is me harvesting words like baits,
I know your smell when you want to hurt me
I know your smell just like Nigerian politicians.
I know your odour when you are obsessed with
The only prophecy in my head to the world.
Store your saliva in my prayerful pocket
I'll sill silly girl into the dumb dungeon
Hunting the same smell that got burnt raising your kind; this is how you smell in the afternoon


©John Chizoba Vincent
# The_Boy_Hero.