When a mother carries her child She carries him like a treasure found. Picture me, giggling, all that time When I was little; yes, she is mine. Restless I was, guess she knew it Hence, she striped herself so I have it Private and public demands; ah Was I a child who abash her? No […]

via Sonnets: Sucking her breast — An e-Paper Poetry of Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu