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January 2018, vol 13 no 4

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Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian

A New Dawn

waking the fields!
morning
sunlight

That morning, after my father's funeral. Every shadow I saw in the grass became his. The last one was so real – I thought it was a bird's shadow but it was his. There is an Igbo word for hallucination. It's called 'ara'. Though, it also means madness.

Monday morning
my work suit worn
inside out

Today, exactly ten years after my father's funeral. Because I'm bored. With my girlfriend gone. I kill an ant at the window. Who does that these days? When there are seven billion people to talk to.

news of war
a cicada sings
perched on my satellite dish

Anytime I laugh. Mother makes this comparison that my dimple is deeper than my father's. Even, when I speak. She says it reminds her of my father's teenage voice, and how she fell in love with it.

midnight drizzle
the cracked voice
of an owl

You know, my father was different than me. He was born in the morning. Very early in the morning, my mother says. Me, I was born at night. So you see?

midnight drizzle
my neighbour starts
praying in tongues


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