Thoughts. Ramblings. Heavy-hipped. Mango-obsessed.

i returned into mySelf...

traced my footsteps
crusty-toed and all

back to a place
situated just left of my breast

back to the sound of my mother cackling
as I told a dirty joke in igbo

beating a rhythm across mother nature's soft-skinned backside,
slapping the words 'live, goddamit' into the souls of the fearful,

teaching presidents

…to write poetry.

(for kelechi...)

No comments: