by Ókólí Stephen Nonso
A mother ties a white cloth to the door, a quiet flag,
while rain drips from the zinc like a ticking clock.
Boys carry empty bowls past the checkpoints,
dust rising behind them like unspoken prayers. Continue reading
by Ókólí Stephen Nonso
A mother ties a white cloth to the door, a quiet flag,
while rain drips from the zinc like a ticking clock.
Boys carry empty bowls past the checkpoints,
dust rising behind them like unspoken prayers. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry