I find succor in my reflection on Murtala’s face. Why can’t I confide in it? Is it not family now?
I find succor in my reflection on Murtala’s face. Why can’t I confide in it? Is it not family now?
Familiar slogans clog social media pipelines. The red river swells with braids undone.
Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled away by the salt of time
We will forget the death that now stinks up the city centre, dark hallways into the doors of offices
I may say I tried the best I could to stifle an instinct But the quiet invitation of your transparent gown…
