For a Black Man, Everywhere Is Summer

After the incident of a negro’s body being stilled, 
denied air, denied the right of casting his last wish to the wind,
I remember my uncle who ran from his home
because fire, here, looks anyone in the face, and says:
“Yo, man! Read Psalms and lament over your last days.”
I understand fire can burn without flames or smoke
and nothing sweats like Black bodies.
I hope to pass the border mark freely when I tell 
my teacher who asks what burns quickly, anywhere
that Black skin is combustible.
Combustion of a Black body: an officer’s knee finds a trash 
in the neck of another man through his skin and burns it.
Perhaps this is not the right word to create a haunting imagery. 
Perhaps I know the measure of sweat from a body on fire
because my country and everyone here sweats.
On Third Mainland Bridge, a fugitive of unpleasant weather 
wanting to hug water blesses his color, 
blesses his spirit before banishing the heat from his body.
He’s back home to die, since every weather
home and abroad is like a summertime for a Black man.

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Blessing Omeiza Ojo (@donfox001) is a Nigerian teacher and author. His work has been featured in various local and international anthologies. He was a 2020 semi-finalist for the Jack Grapes Poetry Prize and the winner, 9th Korea-Nigeria Poetry Prize (Ambassador Special Prize). He is currently a creative writing instructor at Jewel Model Secondary School, Abuja, where he has coached winners of national and international writing prizes.