A Broken Wrung On The Ladder Of Memories
On the ladder of memories, it was not the way the night stretches a blanket of darkness across the sky that endeared it to me. My best friend in the corpers’ lodge; Segun, thought I had cuddled the moon under the canopy of glittering stars…
A TALE OF MIGRATORY LOCUSTS & HOLOCAUST
They said the moon would weep with us when death eats supper in our huts but as soon as the sun slept off, she sharpened the claws of the stars &led them to our huts Watch how you hold the words of this poem ‘cos…
