Poetry

Sickle Cell Is the New Tribe 

Written By: Jeremy T. Karn for bijoux  you’ve heard about flowers thatgrow in the dirt.   there are flowers with thorns that grow in thebones & some that grow in your aunt’sbackyard garden     every morning as you fix yourbones in your body & dress for the…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 9 2 min read  
Contributors

A Thing Too Stressed 

Written By: Precious Uwen when we started loving it was like we got new clothes. and we’d never stain it. But we wore our love repeatedly for days without changing it. We wore our love with the same pattern, with the same style. The same…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 0 1 min read  
Poetry

BARE 

Written By: Oluwafemi Babasola Baby, I’ll walk this bridgeto you,even if all my feet feelis a thread strong as thespider’s web. Baby, I’ll fly to you,even if it means divingfrom this cliff withuntested wings. I’ll lift these layers of skinsthat cover me.I’ll unveil these masks…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 1 1 min read  
Poetry

My Crush is a Black Hole 

Written By: Naphtali Festus Adda 1:13 am.i think of Prudence. how she flashes her teeth. how she weaves words like a basket. her beauty. her baritone voice – my phone rings, it’s another message from Quora digest, it reads; what is a black hole? //…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 0 1 min read  
Poetry

I am a chalice 

Written By: Maxwell Opia-Enwemuche I am a chalice full of sweet wine & my wine is for my priest, a priest I will yield my body & soul. Do not desire me for pleasure; look beyond my enticing hour-glass body & embrace my conscious cerebral…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 1 1 min read  
Poetry

Meditation on Writing 

Written by: Pamilerin Jacob I fail miserablyat my most beloved habit. Suddenly, a stone is a stone. A cloud is a cloud. &the water in my cup possesses no ancient history. Not a symbol. Nota metaphor. The mornings are stripped clean of magic: birds, no…

Eboquills, 4 years ago 8 1 min read