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I DON’T know how I got here
believe me, yesterday I lived in birds’ songs
which means my heart once had feathers
today I’m a house
filled with questions
and children cry into my bones
covering their mouth
I don’t know if they cry
of sorrow or shame

an ocean grows in me
I’m the water, filling myself
with tempest that drags me from the shore
I am a wave clashing into myself
into muddles of puddles

I swear I don’t know when
this heart became a hijacked ship
taking people far away from home
and I dissolve in a mirage
into a shadow of drowning sun

I once saw a garden
bloom with breasts and beards
my mother said, one day
you will build home in petals
of hibiscus. and I became
gloves and watering can

today the garden wilts
in a venom of vermilion.

**************

Post image by Julie Geiger via Flickr.

About the Author:

Martins Ekong is a human being who loves arts, especially the art of poetry. He believes in the ability of arts to change people. He writes from Nigeria.

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I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

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I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

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