By
Justice Gift Ogochukwu
Becoming
the shadows that visit me do not come with name-tags
so i do not know which left its tongue in my mouth
and smithereens of broken moans
that are stuck in my vocal cord
people throw rotten names at me
the splatter is paint for the fence around my heart
to keep the spent-layer that lays brown shelled feelings
my prayers hang on the end of a crescent
and fall back to me with a sacred stench
when the moon reaches puberty
so i am afraid to empty my heart of heavy words
many shadows have opened my door
leaving sooty dark stains on the knob
so those that come with a bouquet of songs
leave with a souvenir
small voices in my head
sing songs with dark notes
that stain my tongue and breath
so that i’m slowly becoming one of them…
a shadow
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