4022594023_1f8f7a4389_zHer smile was all sunshine.
Meeting her under the shade(less)
sunny sun,
the day opened out to us, we were barefooted
in the sandy sunny desert.

A walk along the desert,
flies of sand fly into the air, painted in a vision
of phantasmagorical mirage, we’re unlikely reachable.
The first thing we pounce
Upon, a mosaic of carcasses, their footprints
Decorated behind them. We look forward,
The city we’re approaching; shed by poisonous
Hedgerows.

We walked in silence, in the turbulent
Stories we covered, with our pin-hole eyes. The
Bulging emptiness of the place, the broken feet
Stack in the sand, the historical bones of A.D
and B.C, the archaeological recoveries of ghosts;
Rotten and withered, in the desert of
Ghosts.

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A loud noise from a gunpowder-powered
bamboo cannon blew into the air, afar the city
of whites, poisoning smell into the air, we
inhaled, and coughed and puffed out dirty air, clutched
our arms, returned back to Africa as walking news.

 

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Image by Helga Kvisli via Flickr.

About the Author:

Portrait - GyasiGeosi Gyasi is a book blogger, reader, writer and interviewer. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Kalahari Review, The New Black Magazine, African Writer, Visual Verse, Nigerians Talk, and Linden Avenue. He blogs at geosireads.wordpress.com