two poems by sodiq yusuf

Fated Hands

Already deafened
by the blasted machines
producing ancient noises
hammering, scampering, panel-beating,
Adeoti scratched his sunken eyes
roving the corridor of this civilising terror,
forgetting himself on the spot,
forgetting his prized hand,
inside the deep dungeon–
a hole
carelessly lurked in a corner of the shaft
awaiting any ill-fated hand to dare.
Within a second, Adeoti’s hand
was grinded
and the only thing therein
was a gushing spring of blood.

Was Adeoti crying?
NO.
Why should he?
Many more hands have been
and will always be a victim.
 
 
Ife

She knows–
Ife knows–
those tempting curves
swaying to and fro
like a lost stranger
on the narrow street of Adediran
those swinging apples
hanging delicately on her chest
those round shapes
with which she sits
are,
for me,
a rubbish heap
marked with RED:
the colour of danger.
 
 
Sodiq Yusuf is an undergraduate student of English at the University of Lagos and the current president of The Weavers, the writers’ club that serves the university. His poems have been published in Our Legacy of Madness, an anthology newly published by the club. His poems have also appeared online at www.sentinelnigeria.org issue 9. Sodiq will always dedicate his writings to his mother, because she is the best thing that has happened to him. Sodiq lives in Lagos, Nigeria.