―with Uche Ezenwa-Ohaeto Something sits on my heart like night sits on day:A verdant lush too heavy to pass through my throat.In one night, rivers redden where bone-rubble, limbs float.Here, mother is a name for a woman whose children do not return home after...
Now that you have decided to stayaway, I have given up finding the quietgestures that lie behind us. What matterscannot just be found in corners of what wasonce your home. I have muted your imprintin the last photograph we took as the plumeof dawn washed over us and...
