By Splendor Victor In this poem, I am not withering anymore.I wake to the petrichor of soft light, and I recalllast night it rained—angel wings drizzlinglike daffodils. And see now, a garden.And butterflies dizzy with joy. God breezes by atevening.…
By Ajibola Tolase In the doctor’s office wheremy symptoms dissipate at the newsof negative test results. I’m lookingat my tongue, colored orangeby Fanta in the mirror. Sinceit seemed I will live I shiftmy focus to things dying in me—English words…
By Okoronkwo Chisom My grandfather told my father that he could be anything he wanted, so he chiseled his body to look like rain. He fell in droplets into a tank of an abstract noun — a name that lacks…
By Akpa Arinzechukwu I dip a finger in the deep ocean just to reach you. Your absence ebbs me towards the improbable. I wake up again in a body no longer mine, an identity on a reckless person’s table. The…
