By Umeh Martins Somadina 21 months ago


My body is a drone, covering the extent of my dream. The problem is the mind that sees a dead end. Sometime ago i unlynched a boy they said stole Maggi in Aba market, so he sees the witnesses that came late to his aid: A woman who sews her pants with Ankara, a lawyer, a police officer and I. Today home treats its own like a stranger, as a corpse loses its rite as a first son. The body is a song sang by the soul, the last note, our last breath. We are clocks that tell the time of peoples death, Yet know not when and how we end. Clip your nose & imagine your surroundings when she hits your last note - See,  / the breeze didn't stop / see,  / those mosquitoes didn't respect the would-have-been-corpse, they  still clamoured for the little blood left / see, / your office would replace you / see, / your lover didn't go with you / see, / money, cars clothes didn't go with you / see,  /your family  will cry, mourn, bury you & still move on. Just you and you alone.  I said all this to my self when she left. 


To be continued ...

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Umeh Martins Somadina
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