Poetry | Ink Sweat and Tears

Afolabi Ezra

The Day Nothing Happened

It was a quiet day—
no bad news,
no sudden loss,
no reason to hold my breath.

I didn’t notice it at first,
how rare that is.

The sky stayed where it was,
the ground didn’t give way,
my phone remained silent
in the best possible way.

I drank water
without thinking about survival.
I laughed
and didn’t have to explain why.

It felt almost suspicious—
like peace was something borrowed,
something that might be taken back
if I looked at it too closely.

So I didn’t.

I let the day pass through me
unchallenged,
unquestioned—

and only later realized
it had been a gift
I almost ignored.

Afolabi Ezra

I notice her because she doesn’t have a dog
in an afternoon of dog-walkers

the goddess of the library
extends in cloth-bound curves
along a lettered shelf

There were hundreds of them, all in period costume,
each generation explained who they were,
queued like at a wedding reception to greet us.

Venus passed over the south node of the Moon today

She offered up her linen bag to me, said
pick a shell my lady and I’ll tell your fortune

Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips
and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce.

the sun is a
white coin
lifted
from the sea

Yes, you gave us your elegant hands
and capricious smile, but as I make my way
to the chiropodist this morning,
it’s your feet I’m thinking of . . .

Pursue the facsimile
of the attendance sign;
here you must join the line.