The Undiluted Science of Thickness by Oluwatosin Okupa

Oluwatosin Okupa | June 15th, 2023 | poetry | No Comments


At home, the sun is thick.
The sun is always thicker than blood.
Every day, she rebels out of her waterless
shadow with a sharply pristine version
on her burning plate. Upon each wrestle,
she raises the strength of her boiling point
to the power of infinity.
How can a five-year-old dissect this?
Today, the sun is as thick
as my sister’s curly black hair.
Twice in two weeks on Thursdays,
she wets her scalp with a puny portion
of castor oil – four teaspoonfuls – no less, no more, switching to the lead role.
On Tuesdays, coconut oil sings backup,
while Shea-butter doubles the fold
on every other day.
Why would you want to thicken
a thick black smoke?
In her words, “It will deepen the bar,
sweeten the moisture,
and clean up the messy garden.”
I pretend to understand as I stare,
my brain patiently settling on the sun
whilst she simmers a slab of ice
into a shiny pulp.
And then I remember,
we have a skin that emits delicate flowers
fluffy enough for grease to stimulate
into universal mysteries.

Poet Bio

Oluwatosin Okupa, from the shores of Lagos, is an enthusiastic short story writer and a poet. Her creative works have appeared in Writers Space Africa, Shuzia Pen Protest Anthology, MONUS Anthology, Poetry & Culture, Loud Thotz Poetry, and several other literary journals. Her creative focus is centered around on restoring hope, sanity, love and fairness through the enriching power of words. She breathes fearlessly on

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