The pathogensis of the crown

It begins
as an asymptomatic quiet,
a stealthy infiltration
of the soft tissue
where the body’s defenses
are ordered to stand down.

The pathogen mimics
the host’s own proteins,
wearing the face
of a neighbour,
a brother,
until the lymph nodes
are choked
with the weight
of their own betrayal.

Then comes
the necrosis
of the infrastructure.

The nation’s filter,
hardens
into a landscape
of unyielding stone.

It can no longer
scrub the toxins
from the flow;
the bile backwashes,
yellowing the eyes
until every citizen
looks at the world
through the jaundiced lens.

The lungs
lose their elasticity.

The alveoli—
the small, communal rooms
where air trades
for life—
fill with a thick,
bureaucratic fluid.

The gas exchange falters;
the body gasps
for a future
the chest
can no longer afford
to hold.

Next
is the atrophy
of the grey matter.

The synapses
are pruned
by a deliberate hunger,
severing the wires
between the hand
and the heart.

The brain forgets
the architecture
of the feet;
it sends signals
for _agbado_,
but the stomach
is already
a hollowed-out vault,
digesting its own lining
to stay warm.

Finally,
the rhythmic consensus
develops
a fatal arrhythmia.

The chambers
no longer beat in time;
the blood pools
in the corners
and clots,
turning
the once-vibrant
highways
into a map
of blocked
and bruising alleys.

The system shudders,
a cold, final rigour mortis
setting into
the very streets
of the bone.

Ọmọ Olódó idẹ,
tell me why
this sounds
like a nation
under your ruin.

Majekodunmi O. Ebhohon is a Nigerian poet and playwright. He is the author of ‘The Great Delusion’, winner of the ANA Prize for Drama, 2025. He writes from Benin City, Edo State, Nigeria.
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