Glissade

A few hours later, you were trying to rebuke grief. You smiled, leg-working, lori iro…

I may say I tried the best I could to stifle an instinct But the quiet invitation of your transparent gown…

Everything was planned. She had forced death’s hand to travel from left to right.

Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled  away by the salt of time

ISSUES

Subscribe to the Efiko Newsletter

From the Archives

Join Us