I wasn’t he who chopped the tree,
Amadioha.
Why have thou cursed me?
The Ogene bounces off the sides of
the mounts,
Horns and flutes purr at the heart
of still waters...
Why am I in the way of a burst
cistern?
Waves disturbs the calm of my
dreams;
Of trickles come from the cistern’s
cracks.
Why am I the cursed of them all?
Off they run to Nkwobi’s warm
bossom,
Salted. The alligator pepper well
done!
But upon shards of glass my heart
is thrust
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