Freedom

your only prized possession  
is an empty notebook, a gift  
whose ruled pages evoke  
rolled-steel running silently  
as far as the eyes can see. 

the lines could mean liberty,  
each pole assigned to a white  
flag that requires nothing  
of potential spanglers. 

close your eyes long enough 
and you will see the ink blur, 
a stain of meaningful language; 

open your ears, still the din 
let translation find you, and  

turn the page 

* 

turn the page  

let translation find you, and 
open your ears, still the din 

into meaningful language, 
let the ink blur long enough  
to leave a stain of insight. 

potential spanglers require nothing  
else of the white flags  
to which they’ve been assigned; 
liberty means each line goes  

as far as the eyes can see; 
rolled-steel silently running, 
a long-awaited Ruling that evokes  
the gift of an empty notebook, 
your most-prized possession.  

TOLU OGUNLESI

Tolu Ogunlesi’s fiction and poetry have appeared in Wasafiri, Transition, Sable, Magma, Orbis, Eclectica, and many other publications. He’s been awarded a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prize, a PEN/Studzinski Literary Award, and writing fellowships from the Nordic Africa Institute (NAI), Sweden; the University of Birmingham, England; and the Rockefeller Foundation. He lives in Abuja, Nigeria.