a ghazal that never gets to bear the name of its author

By Fasasi Abdulrosheed Oladipupo / Issue 21

the autumn speaks more of the harmony songs of birds, at Saskatchewan the winter eats up the moths of colors, it is what makes poets off us, the discovery of sounds at the inductions of poem, the uncovering of new dictions, I say it is miracle how poets do not get drowned in the trench of inquisition, how war are being fought and won in a minstrel’s scroll, how love gives hibiscus, snatch rose and stumps moan; it is unwise to be a poet’s foe, if one could not love any. In a long dream, I want my poem to speak the sea and listen the desert; do not tread the path of chaos, do not be like them, hundreds bounded by a unique loss, few living as misers; enslaved by memories of doom; déjà vu they could not stop, some seized by horrifying scenes of borders; existence between nothingness of camps and elegy of home. The music of exile has no chorus, breaks between the clefs, moment of silence for losses to be counted and ritual of grief to be observed, and interrogations at immigration cubicles, newly found artist; singing a ghazal that never gets to bear the name of its author.

FASASI ABDULROSHEED OLADIPUPO is a Nigerian poet, the author of a micro-chapbook “Sidratul Muntaha” (Ghost City Press, 2022), the recipient of The Storyteller Grant, and a nominee for Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and Best New Poet. His work has been published or forthcoming at: Poetry South, Oakland Arts Review, Carolina Muse, ROOM, Potomac Review, Jet Fuel Review, Miracle Monocle, The Citron Review, Santa Ana River Review, Ambit Magazine, Southern Humanities Review, Oxford Review of Books, Olongo Africa, Stand Magazine, Louisiana Literature, GASHER Journal, and elsewhere.