Two Poems – Wale Owoade

To the Width of Everything


If I drop a drone
on your palm,
if you stroke it
we will die and
maybe heaven is
what our body
craves for, maybe
we want to push
our secrets to
the sound a gun
makes when a
finger kisses its dick.
It is selfishness to
pray to only one God,
so we created
another in his image.
You stroked flaccid
out of a gun
and said breathe
and it breathe.
A theory said
the universe is God’s
huge cigarette,
for you, it is my
microphone. I like
to think of your
palm as psalms,
so you are all those
great things I read
in the water I drank.
Anyway, I like
the way your psalms
adjusts to the
width of everything.
This trigger is capital
to my gun, I want to
feel your fingers
trace the lyrics
of my song.




Lust and Found

The curtain hissed
out light to hide us from
loneliness and you stepped

out of your carton like you
are almost beautiful with
your rob on.

So this is how brighter the
world was before Eve
crunched the apple?

Approximately, this is
a waiting cab—you threw
yourself on the bed so

I can sob inside you.
How far this journey is
depends on how we start—

so we start with my tongue
bracketing the dampy map
between your thighs, my lips,

sheltering your moon— this
room became dark and this
tongue is Google. How much

I find depends on how long
I search. Your muffled way
of calling my name is

pointing your chin to the
sky. Our path can be lust
and found with my tongue.







Wale Owoade is a Nigerian poet and literary enthusiast. His poems have been featured in Apogee Journal, Radar Poetry, The lake Poetry Journal, The Bombay Review, Yellow Chair Review, Elsewhere: New African Poetry, Black Mirror Review, MTLS, The New Black Magazine, among others. He is the Publisher and Managing Editor of EXPOUND: A Magazine of Arts and Aesthetics. Wale is currently working on his debut poetry manuscript. He is also a web and graphic designer. He tweets @WaleOwoade

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