A poem in Protest of Prometheus Bound

I've seen the way that light cuts through everything —

Lancing through blocks of memory, 
poking through holes. 
Once we dragged the deadbeat Porsche until 
the beetle glowed outdoors. 
Once until crickets sang from the exposed beams 
of our homes, we told stories on the moonlit porches.  
The morning sun rise poking through holes in the roof
 and through the burka the rising 
Moon accentuates the shadows of people
and what they do. 
Cars trundle up and down the 
deadbeat road like cicadas. 
The gloaming cut through the barricade 
of wives in their cowls—
Once when above the chains of ghostly hills was 
the sun,  
Moving past the city in a bus throughout 
the dark territories we knew,
One could see how the sunflower fields 
bloomed in the rear view —
How it all fits so narratively in reverse.

Visar writes from Lagos. Author of Daylight (2018) on Ghost City Press. His works have either appeared or are soon appearing on Mojave Heart Review, Selcouth Station, Marias at Sampaguitas, Bone and Ink, Riggwelter Journal, Picaroon Poetry, Nightingale & Sparrow,Agbowo, Kalahari review, African Writer, the Gerald Kraak Award Anthology, Amethyst Review, 20.35 Africa Journaletc. Twitter: @rabiutemidayo.