By Owolusi Lucky
Limned by the half moon, standing in the fen
A white clad girl among Goat weeds, Cidas and
In august wind, barefooted among thorns,
Lone frame, ravishing sympathy from my
old worn heart.
Her epicene form, shrouded in flimsy shawl,
dryly melt my mantle of caution.
Of two, one of her eyes is an empty hole,
The other gleam an unholy red.
Her face hid behind her shoulder hunched.
She mirrors the moon in lustrous deceit
That hid its evil in shadowy corners.
On all fours like hound into the thicket she
Owolusi Lucky, like other Nigerians, does lot of things: teaching, painting, programming, and writing. He has published poetry, short fiction and essays in anthologies, magazines, and journals. He believes in meditation and explores humanity in his writing.
He has work forthcoming at Whitewall Review, Erato Magazine, Deracine Magazine and others.