Think Oval Poem by Haruna Garba

A decade has silently passed by
And I the orphan find him good
This sculptor that my master was

Overzealous, I often sneaked
In to soot stained chamber
That housed his antique
Let my tender eyes hold some view

How fascinating looked the handle
Of the witchdoctor's axe

On the head, stood clear
Two giant antennae
And I could not make out
If they were deer's twin horns
Or just ears
Or the very parted beak of a pelican

Each time I tried a stare match
The coarse, cold eyes stared back
And they reminded me of potsherds

What an absurd little trot!
Head crowned with the mouth of a shark



Swung to trace only a small circumference
One needs to hear the swish
Of his chiseling axe
Music composed drum bereft

Think oval master, think spherical
And I wished I would have put a mescal
On that witchdoctor's axe
Potters mix clay and pot rabbles
Mashed up, first they roll a spherical lump

So picking a sizeable chiseling axe
I inclined my head as master did
Angled my hand as he did
And hymned as master did
Put with my novice strokes
On an axe's petite trunk patching
Are a scorpion, gecko lizard and a butterfly
And I his apprentice
Reviewing the axe's handle
Caught the whiff of land and sea
And of the cosmos itself

Angling my hand as master did
Holding my head as he did
And with his un-worded carver's song
On the axe, i fashioned out a globe

When flamed
The finish was night on earth
And the oiling is an anointment
So of fats, be ready to provide
You tourists, as you take
Your souvenir home