by Anthony Melekwe 


Hill, planes
Across rocky sloppy grounds
I am none. You could never touch
I stay lone surrounded by moonlight and nothing
The dreams that fly, daze of lullaby
my feet maunders prints of Columbus and I…am
Crippled of my reality


Bigger the better, smaller the frost.
On that edge of stones
Six counts down,
the air phases this sleeve at that bite.
The fruit that makes all disappear
Blotted by darkness but snatched by voices
Gravity now pushes sideways and no hope except
the recall of those tears
clothing your face maps.
Only you can tell why.

About the Author:

Melekwe Anthony is a writer who hails from Lagos, Nigeria. He studies Mass Communication at University of Nigeria, Nsukka. He is an editor with Redeemed Christian Fellowship (RCF) UNN’s Bulletin. He is a member of Guardians Impact International and The Writers Community, UNN. He is also the founder of Vision Mountain. A freelance reporter and an editor, Anthony believes in each breath readers can inhale from his work.