Ode To Fela (1938-1997)
4. Fela Dreams Of Unknown Soldiers
You dream hectic
polysyllabics,
consolation—
an open
power fist
put to skin—
unmindful
war chants,
cowrie shells
in dozens.
You dream
of coral snake:
lips to horn
like another
new woman.
To the left,
a refrain
of Queens
not thinking
about obiri’s
crowd. Right,
horn stacks
shelling number
one son
Femi. Dream
of making better:
drums stretched
to feed
fire and palm.
Call to arms
when you found
mother in driveway
doubled over.
Mr. President,
you are arming:
I condemn
Democracy now.
-----------------------
Chaps (2005-2006)
4. Reason For Leaving
You work in hectic
what work should not be
situations—
no time and half
extra food for the road
make out sessions in the cooler
percent of tips
passed down culinary tips
direct deposit checks
respect
soap allowance
unchipped plates.
You work
with steak knives
in murky water,
crusted pans
from days ago
breakfast. Soak that
for a few hours.
Over the right
shoulder, come
forks, last of
Caesar and salad,
no refrain from
play or token calls.
What can I do
to make you happy?
Fire me
when you find another
desperate teen.
Mr. Co-owner,
you are arming
me with angry
black man syndrome
justification.
4. Fela Dreams Of Unknown Soldiers
You dream hectic
polysyllabics,
consolation—
an open
power fist
put to skin—
unmindful
war chants,
cowrie shells
in dozens.
You dream
of coral snake:
lips to horn
like another
new woman.
To the left,
a refrain
of Queens
not thinking
about obiri’s
crowd. Right,
horn stacks
shelling number
one son
Femi. Dream
of making better:
drums stretched
to feed
fire and palm.
Call to arms
when you found
mother in driveway
doubled over.
Mr. President,
you are arming:
I condemn
Democracy now.
-----------------------
Chaps (2005-2006)
4. Reason For Leaving
You work in hectic
what work should not be
situations—
no time and half
extra food for the road
make out sessions in the cooler
percent of tips
passed down culinary tips
direct deposit checks
respect
soap allowance
unchipped plates.
You work
with steak knives
in murky water,
crusted pans
from days ago
breakfast. Soak that
for a few hours.
Over the right
shoulder, come
forks, last of
Caesar and salad,
no refrain from
play or token calls.
What can I do
to make you happy?
Fire me
when you find another
desperate teen.
Mr. Co-owner,
you are arming
me with angry
black man syndrome
justification.
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