The Days of Yell-low by Abiodun Salako


  Monday claws out of me like a rabbit With nut belly and hopping suffixes: These vanishing tiny goblins with the Skin of urine, weaken, curse, weaken Vein by vein erupting and shrieking Tuesday is frozen yoghurt like Lila’s Fibroid scooped with a spoon of cartilage, A full moon for howling, for begging my bones Leave me or soften like…

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A Creationist’s Story by Njoku Nonso Emmanuel


  [Notes of first draft] Too many shapes, too many faces, On this mirror of errors. We are made of waters. Angels lost their wings & became light. A body takes the shape Of whatever he sings. The boy is an unknown creature. Everything tastes like wine.       [Notes of second draft] I. My father hates blood as…

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Don’t Forget Me by Dika Ofoma


  Don’t Forget Me   Elozanam held his chest, taking in long breaths to calm his heart beats. He brought his clammy hands to his face letting the blood tickling off his thumb stream down his face. He’d expected that the bleeding would’ve stopped by now. However, It didn’t bother him and he still didn’t care that the blood was…

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Two Poems by Elisabeth Horan


Pain is Just Another Word All this pain is icicle-white and drips in my eyes when I stare at the sun; I’m checking to see if God came back, yet somehow I already know – He didn’t. Pain is another word for a drain. Like when I watch the grey water swirl – A mini-eddy of suds and razor stubble…

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Two Poems by Okeke Nduka


Figures My happiness went dead with the Portraits in my home. We move the clock backward to take a last breath of where we left Without songs in our mouth—In silence, Meaning pictures can only get old when woes live on walls, Meaning happiness got drowned in our heart before we fall into the mouth of Pains. What the dog…

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Two Poems by Gaamangwe Joy Mogami


ORIGINS OF WOUNDS   And what if before the sadness swallows you, you remember where you hid the wounds? Would you walk back into the moving train, and rearrange the dreams, slice each one into perfect melon-sized halves, walk into the half where your mother seats looking into the horizon, searching for your face? Might you walk to her and…

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88 by Amagwula Nnenna Comfort


The number of skeletons hidden in my cupboard. 88 Half the number of femurs that pressed my body down against its will. 88 Two too little, they should have waited till I was 18. 88 Three for daddy and one for Joshua. They both said they loved me. 88 Two by two, hands push open the doors of the cupboards…

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A Late Tale of Bemusement by Madukwe Anthony


  I met your twin sister today and now I am confused. She looked and smiled like you. The crinkles you have by the side of your eyes – the ones that spread like 6 willow branches – were also in hers, squeezing her face into similar lines of beauty when she smiled. I walked up to her and hugged…

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