by Yusuf Balogun Gemini for Ruth Chidinma Ochei

Thousand words would not fill a basket,

broken jars would never house the torrent of Oosa Oke

but if sixty seconds make one minute,

then sixty rubies would make a ~thousand~ ~jackpot~ —

scratch that,

a ruby is enough gold,

if you'd have sixty of her,

then that's Paradise.

But only cowards hide under words to tame wings,

only lazy men pen hieroglyphs on the beak of Awoko,

men like us glide gracefully to the 

tender roof of Oluweri,

just to keep memories in seashells —

Ruby,

this land is not a definition of your aura,

you are the jingling trinkets on the loins of Mother Earth,

you're the running zigzag dots on the crystal plate of heaven's gate,

you're that constant deep rooted, watered in the muds of Eden,

you're that reason

why my poetry is now

d

i s

t 

       o

r

         te

     d

like the running waters of Nigeria,

Ruby, you're the peaceful chaos I read of in chronicles!

Ruby,

women like you find a home upon the vagina of waters,

for whom among your enemies shall swim in that pool

lest be stricken by thunderbolt?

Ruby,

women like you walk on waters,

you look so much like the irises,

how then can you drown?

Ruby,

women like you doze on water,

you're the oil bean pod that was spoken of by Okigbo,

how then won't you stay afloat?

Ruby,

you are the reason why my poetryisnowcongestedandconjuncted.

Ruby!

I have appeased the candlelight of my father,

I have found bay at the shores of aro gidigba,

that they may stare at this unrepentant son of mortal

and forgive him of his shortcomings —

isn't it the greatest of sacrilege

to dare qualify a ~goddess~ in mere words?

Strike that, you're too huge to be a goddess,

even Leopold would walk to Senegal tro and fro, never to find an answer still,

phrasal phrase that a thousand words may not be right for,

clausal clause that a thousand words would not make lose water,

Ruby, now that my poetry is ```the fallen wall of Jericho,```

 _the broken scrotum of dickfuckdick..._

Ruby,

would you find relish in the relics of beauty?

Ruby,

if I reminded you of your uniqueness,

would you wash your feet

with the waters of Benue,

coat your fingers in the green white green soil of t'is land

and like a certain ruler in his seventies,

leave to return again...?

This poetry is ellipsis...

How do you end magic, darling?