Cold War


There at the fork was he

The messenger
Prepping the chirps of the
Sunbird, the rainbird, the moonbird
…and all birds

When rattles of a million miles
Pierced through winged hollows
Those were double-edged,
Double-bladed…all doubles
Piercing meek souls
Sheltering in the shadows…
The tussle
Was no eclipse not by half
The sun,the moon;
It was bloody!

In the dock,
He told their tale of myth:
Radiance is the sun’s
Rummaging in its allotted
With scorches on souls
In the shadows
The moon’s is centenary
Albeit timely,
It was a bidding of mounted pains
In dying souls—the falling stars

Author: Yami
Profile: He studied English language at Lagos State University.

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