Because we do not preserve memories from decay
By immersing them in vessels filled with formalin,
I tried to remember you today- your smell, your kiss
The beats and lyrics of the songs you said your heart
Sang for me, but I can’t remember any.
Is there a word for the way poets feel when
They realize that their fondest memories are husks-
A pile of grain chaffs- which the winds can blow away
After poems have been winnowed from them?
Can anyone tell us why some love stories are so short
That the reader has barely chewed the first mouthful
Before he looks down and finds an empty plate
With a glass of tears beside it, to wash it down
On nights like these, when insomnia burgle my thoughts
And questions crawl under my duvet to gangbang me,
I whisper your name into the hollow you left in my heart,
And only an echo of silence bounces back- no pain, no hurt
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Issue 5 is LIVE! Guest editors: @malingose, @WillieKinardIII & @postcolonialchi. Cover: Alex & Frans Odicky. Illustrations: @cocoette_. Stories, poems, essays & photos from Kenya, Nigeria, Trinidad & Tobago, Ghana, Sudan, St. Lucia, Zimbabwe, & more
my poem "A Travelogue: The Grief & Ruins Outside our Walls" is now published on Eboquills. @eboquills
click link to read full poem 🖤🥂https://eboquills.com/2022/05/20/one-poem-by-olowo-qudus/
Check out this list of #opportunities for #writers (see link). The #deadlines are in May 2022, so roll up your sleeves and get to work.
Best wishes! https://eboquills.com/2022/05/07/opportunities-for-writers-with-deadline-in-may-2022/