Poetry

THE LAGOS BUS DRIVEN | A few sombre lines by Ayo Sogunro

First, the sweat—which gathering mass in the heat Doubles up, proportional to the frequency of bus-stops. Stopping? Pause. You curse. “Driver! Move this thing.” The syllables short and sharp. It’s always inevitable, This conflict of interest. The empty seats must be filled But the filled seats must be moved. “DRIVER! MOVE!” He heard: bus sways. … Continue reading