There is fire on the mountain
And nobody seems to be on the run
There is fire on the mountaintop
And no one is a-running
—ASA, Fire on the Mountain
I wish everyone I love
the joy of dancing
naked. Tonight, I am
holding a piece of chicken
from Popeyes, sliding—
towel on my shoulder—across
the floor of my apartment—
so American, this freedom—as
Tunji Oyelana’s voice escapes
from my Mac laptop, my first…
And then, my mother calls.
Tonight, on Tobi’s 21st
birthday, my mother
almost doesn’t sound like
my mother. My mother
only birthed 5 but, come closer,
let me tell you
how many things my mother
still holds inside.
~
there’s a lot
i can’t tell you
here’s a plot
bury me
when i’m gone
with my mouth
sealed shut
i’m afraid of what
wild thing might
mistake my mouth
for a piece of land
i am deathly afraid
of what might grow here
when my flesh rots
pulverize my bones
i beg you i beg you
~
I was a boy, passing
through & there it was:
My mother’s home-
town—the expanse
of land Oduduwa first set
foot on—five
hundred chains, five
chameleons, sand
and a hen with him—
when he, given
the mission to create land,
climbed down
from heaven—in a year
I can’t recall. What remains,
a testament to what
fire can do. A war
started long before
my mother was
my mother, before she was
even a girl. & yet,
the flames…
Fanned, still.
~
…I tell my mother
I notice the heavy
in her voice & out
comes the truth, overdue.
The truth is she can’t hide
how tired she is. Mothers
inherit this heirloom
of strength in spite
of the weight they have to carry
& how breakable they are remains
a secret whispered,
only heard if you press
your ears to their marrows.
~
I have called the first period
the primitive Age of Fire,
and I will call the second
the Age of Mounds…
~
To wish myself a marriage-
less existence is to wish myself
the certainty that I won’t repeat
history—an echo
of all the wrong notes
in an unending song.
Did the first caveman to
discover fire sing
its vibrant flame to embers
and did he call it a love
song? What is the name
for the wish for everything
to stop burning? Does the arsonist
ever wish to one day grow up
to be a firefighter? Is it wrong to wish
for a different origin story
for the consummation that brought
me here? Is it wrong to wish
I was consumed in the first fire?
I know, to wish
this is to wish the opposite
of existence upon myself
but is it wrong to wish myself
into the sun, or if not that, at least as
the son of a different god
and goddess? In this version
of the myth, I wish
Sango and Oya the absence
of fire. I wish them scalded
palms the very first time
they try to pick up a hot coal.
~
Heed the proverb:
Anyone who puts fire on his tail
Will not take it anywhere else
Except into his father’s house.
~
Is it not water that douses fire?
Yes, once in a race,
water quenched flames. The prize?
The beautiful daughter
of a king. And ever since
then, the enmity (so
the story goes) between
Rain and Fire…
~
Fire burn
Fire burn
Fire burn
Fire burn
Lord, strike
the rock
again
by the hands
of Moses. Lord,
water. Lord,
Asiemo’s plea:
that the fire be
quenched.
~
Drought is Fire’s
bedfellow Wake me
up if it ever rains
I who can
sleep through
most things
beg you
~
In the case of a fire,
what three things
would you try to save?
- Everything
I don’t want to
forget. 2. Everything
I wish to. 3. Every
poem I have
ever written.
& if you allow me
one more thing
I will
save if possible
either by sorcery
or prayer
the ones
I wish
I could
~
I was born
on September 12
1990 There is a photograph
of me grinning
while holding
a knife In front of me
a round frosted
cake with 10 candles
still lit & an inscription
that reads AYO IS TEN
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Behind me to my left
the girl I am in love
with I say in love but
a ten year
old boy can’t tell
the difference between
infatuation and love
or give the right name
to every fire burning
in his chest
~
At the end
of 1990s,
Nigerian Government
had invested
about $3.0 billion
in irrigation
and drainage
on over 300
dams
and reservoirs
(Mahmood, 1994)
~
I was born
in the year of Gabriel’s Fire,
on the day Pa Ogunde’s went out,
as America gathered around to watch
Gabriel emerge out the fiery furnace,
alive, after 20 years. The ash
of the old world, sure,
but freedom—a new world
to walk into. Do you believe
in ghosts, son? You can’t
bring back the dead,
so just leave them alone…
~
I do not remember the exact
year, but I remember, clearly,
the skull: a child’s…
…inside a bus, turned over,
on the Lagos/Ibadan
Expressway…
A tanker spilled…
All you need to know:
Petrol and heat
don’t make a great couple.
~
…there are mounds which only
contain burnt bodies…
~
I wish I wasn’t born
inside a burning bush. I
was born into a drought
that hasn’t stopped. I have
wished myself into a river,
or on other days, wished
for myself a river. I have
been practicing how to
use my voice
to seduce the fire. Wanna
go for a swim? I say. So
sultry, right? The first
woman I’ll give the name
girlfriend is teaching me
how to swim. I am still
learning the basics:
how to float. But, if
I drown, if this all ends
with me, I want you to
know that I am fine with this.
Don’t wake me up. Please let
me sleep. Don’t pull me out
the water, or fire. There
really isn’t that much difference.
Don’t ask me how many women
I have shared bed with. In my head,
my mother’s warning like a gong:
Don’t play with fire. I’ve had two
scares, at least… And sure, a child
isn’t the worst thing to come out
of this, but some days, I do not
wish a child for myself. Instead,
I wish for myself shriveled nuts.
And if this wish cannot be
granted, I do not wish
for the child the burden
of rectifying the errors
of those who came
before. I do not
wish the child the burden
of questioning. The truth:
I wish to be a child again
but it is for all the wrong
reasons. There is a child
in me who thinks he can
rewrite the history
of his family, his country.
Tell the boy he is wrong.
Tell him he can’t.
He is as stubborn as
the Ox’s son. He won’t
believe you. Unyoke him.
Wish him reprieve.
Wish him well, or
wish him into a well.
Pray he drowns,
the weight
of all the things
he cannot change
around his neck.
Note: “I have called the first period…” and “…there are mounds which only contain burnt bodies…” are quotes from Legrand d’Aussy (as encountered in The Discovery of the Past by Alain Schnapp). “Anyone who puts fire on his tail…” is from Stories from the Ifa Oracle (as found in Alcheringa Vol. 1, No. 1, 1970). “Is it not water that douses fire?” is from Wole Soyinka’s Cremation of a Wormy Caryatid. “Fire burn…” is from Fire Fire, a song by Daddy Showkey (John Asiemo). “At the end of 1990s,…” is from Recurrence of Drought in Nigeria: Causes, Effects and Mitigation by Abubakar, I.U., and M.A. Yamusa. “Do you believe in ghosts, son? You can’t bring back the dead…” is from Episode 1 of the T.V. show Gabriel’s Fire which ran on ABC from September 12, 1990 (the day I was born) to June 6, 1991.

Ayokunle Falomo is Nigerian, American, and the author of African, American (New Delta Review, 2019) and two self-published collections. A recipient of fellowships from Vermont Studio Center and MacDowell, his work has been anthologized and published in print and online, including The New York Times, Houston Public Media, Michigan Quarterly Review, The Texas Review, New England Review, Write About Now among others. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology from University of Houston, a Specialist in School Psychology degree from Sam Houston State University and is currently a Zell Postgraduate Fellow at the University of Michigan’s Helen Zell Writers’ Program, where he obtained his MFA in Creative Writing—Poetry.