I can' t wrap my
head on how
I was a present
to him
Why he felt
owning me
was
a brute fact
of nature
I was young
but not yet in
bloom
But desire made
noodles of his
brain
He left me with
child
a blessing
tugging
against being a
curse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Abraham Onoja. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks