WHITE WASHED PORTICO

She belongs someplace
Where empty spaces scream PURITY!!
Please don’t set your gaze on her being

Her braids are so old and discolored
Her engagement ring
Is tainted and crooked
Her velvet is so tightly stitched
Its seam weeps profusely
Her lip grow pale
But rather smooth
Her bosom is so full
It will soon overflow its boundary
The sea drove her insane
No! The political killing did
Her hallucination is so fluent
It might just be her hidden mother tongue
Communicating with dead revolts
The ghost from her anthology objects
“Leave me here
So l can be fed by words”.
© Chinedu Jonathan Ichu

Many have several ‘acts of Shakespeare.’ 

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