Jesse Ojuka

I wonder if I’ll ever walk the bridge again.
While I pretend to be alive,
waiting for the sun to flare.

Never shed a tear for pigeons —
but lately,
I’ve stopped killing spiders.

Listen strivers,
It’s all pears and apples
occasionally mangoes
between the coal
that can’t catch light.

Pass me a bite.
Failures uptight.
Days should incite —

But lately,
they just flop
like a damp towel,
two weeks overdue.

While the bushes watch
the fool.