I lifted my best foe 
who had recently laid my sacrosanct sister
from the dirty bathtub 
His shock of hair around it 
a ring of scar tissue
He had suffered from a mysterious ailment
I groped at his wide-open misery eyes
devoid of tangible light 
his corneas a storm of red
I brought out a tangerine from my pocket 
and peeled it
Swallowed it whole 
the dust of my dolphin fingers
Here was a man
who had waited for a slice of the sun
to fall through his roof
Instead his family deserted him
I sat on a high empath’s neck 
and watched her burp
a celestial radio 
I could not find a steady frequency
So I tuned my car radio instead 
and felt the tangerine heat 
in my belly
on the road to eight years

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Arinze Ubawuchi is a poet, short story writer and introvert to the core. He lives in Abuja, Nigeria.