THE DAYS ARE BRITTLE LETTERS


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THE DAYS ARE BRITTLE LETTERS
(A Future; A Soul, Murderers)

in the quiteness of
our relinquishing
distances, we shall
feel the colourful
embraces of
our forebearers.

we shall. shall see
distances of
sleeping plains
carved out
from vigilant sweat.

we shall feel
thinly bubbles
of beliefs that
washes glaring eyes
of cold Rivers.

i know the choruses
of midnight Owls
the dance of
Bragoro teenagers
the sounds that
sounded sumptuous
memories of
days-lonely gone
into the earth.

But I tell you:
no matter how
clean the anus is,
the smell is
always scattered
epistles of cubic diagonals..

until his death, his book
“Antelopes Can Sing”
was a starring milked watermelon that caused Professor Osimesi
of Rivergods to
bleed of masticated
jaw Ejaculation.

Time he wrote:
were as numbered
as the virginity
of a stubborn
she-Goat.

© Nana Arhin Tsiwah

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