Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.

— Virginia Woolf

Wale Owoade


June 28, 2016



After lightning comes rain.

I will go looking for shadows


in their honeymoons. One day

there would be no sky, only


a silhouette searching for itself.

When I am tired of searching


for proof that God exists, I will

pour ashes inside a glass and ask


the moon to smile. This is what

the war left me: a slightly burnt


tongue—a room made from

a broken dirge—a graveyard


in a churchyard—a lone bird with

a bone for a twig—a two legged


dog—fresh ashes waiting to

be named—prayers starting


and ending with ‘ex’—a window’s

jaw dropping at the sight of a city


eating itself. Even when am

lonely I can’t save the world.


When I will begin to heal,

I will rust. I will say


once there was a war, maybe

a love. After rain comes sun,


I will go searching for

a grave with my name on it.


Wale Owoade is a Nigerian poet and creative enthusiast who lives and writes in north-central Nigeria. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in About Place Journal, Apogee Journal, Chiron Review, Cordite Poetry Review, footmarks, Radar Poetry, Spillway, The Bombay Review and Vinyl among others. Some of his poems have been translated to Bengali, German and Spanish. He is a recipient of 2015 Tony Tokunbo Poetry Silver Award. Wale is the Publisher and Managing Editor of EXPOUND: A Magazine of Arts and Aesthetics. He also interviews contemporary poets at The Strong Letters and is the Founder and Creative Director of Bard Studio.



The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water.

—Cervantes, Don Quixote

© 2016 The Indianola Review