Ogah Friday David

It Is Promises arebayonets pressedupon the rungsof hope. . . and gougedby a hornet. ‘trust’ —a cadaver walkingon mortal hoofs,unaware of the luringfragrance sketched in the air;but…you, area thin line:a poltergeist feedingon my innocence, whilstthe silk of my youthdisappears into the underworld,to your bosom. Firefly I lust forthe waistline on the stretchesthat lead to an…