It’s like you lived in her shadows Or her blood vessels. You got her a loss, A loss she named ‘imaginary’ yet alive in gloss...
1 I am the earth, my sleeves are my hands, my eyes are needles. In another eyes, I am a bird, a bird’s song in..
To the children who look like the stories of the displacement of their homes afraid to infect their lovers with the poverty lacing their..
That was the year of letting go The year I sat this body down and taught it how to forgive The year I broke this..
And here, at the crossroads, hesitation lingers like the pounding voices of migraine. My head ― an anvil of hooves, stammers in scattered dialects..
Mege tweeted: If not for Jehovah they would have dug the earth for cocoyam on my grave, but would I have known? I This..
Àṣàké my love, You said you are from Òyó, that you like your Àmàlà fele fele and your ewédú with gbègìrì So, I added..
Eager to tell them As many as possible are incredible The prologues of our personalities Stories that turn our bodies into a hot sauce, Crafted..
This is how to write the story of the end of (your) existence: You will have a sister who plucks her..
here my dear flower with the wind and drifting just behind your breast plate in front of your heart there is a glow that..
