Nigeria, Dec. 18 -- The doctor explains it simply:

the pain is not in the leg.

The leg is gone.

The pain has relocated

to a safer office,

somewhere behind the eyes,

with better furniture.



I think of the house

where a stair was removed

years ago.

Everyone still lifts their foot there,

midair,

out of habit,

mid-thought.

The body is like that.

So is the neighbourhood.

So is the country.

You close a factory,

and people's backs keep aching.

You erase a name from a book,

and mouths still bruise around it.

You redraw a border,

and the argument limps on,

dragging nothing behind it.

Pain does not respect maps.

It hates accuracy.

It prefers memory,

and old wiring.

I notice this when the smoke alarm

goes off for no re...