Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto



i wrote this poem while listening to Akon’s Sorry blame it on me and on seeing a notification from my phone about war and deaths

it’s afternoon// hot // hot like an imagined hell/ i roll under a table/ and there i make up countless dreams―/ birds unrolling from my corner/ full stop//there’s blood alert on my phone’s screen/ there’s blood sinking into the ground …

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