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A Nigerian Mother’s Guide to Dewinging an Angel
He swears that he can feel them sometimes, phantom appendages on his back twitching and thrumming with unlived life. “I swear mummy. I swear.”
Elegy at 6.6137 N, 3.3553 E
I met my father's eyes for the first time
when she passed
I wanted a language to say goodbye
I never wanted his eyes.
False Spring & I Hope We Can Still Be Friends
Who will forgive our meal of blood and bones?
Who will forgive our hotel bed
dressed and undressed by silent hands?
I swallow a heart. It’s juiceless.
Stay tuned for our upcoming issue, out this December.