Shibboleth - Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
Machete salutations sweat
The rims of blades.
Sparks sprinkle fire-spittle
On the confused breath of hostile fumes
Brines grow on festered fringes
Dappled with pestle-prints of
Yet Death is borne on yawning.
Death is at the border.
Bamboo rafts bow at the rampart,
Slain upon the oaths of Shibboleth,
Read between city-lips widened by
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You