The pen can also be the place where you find courage.

The pen can also be a home — Steadfast, fervent like my Granny Ma's left hand holding me as I tremor away on Wednesday, the 14th.
Everything will be okay.

Although I do not think so yet. Although you can see right through my brazen surface and into the fragile space where I lay myself

Bare, splayed & marvellously open — a scarecrow brandished for deceit.

Don't think far. Thinking is the enemy. A pebble stone chooses water for the blessing of refinement. I choose this storm right at my ankle, right up my face. Out, in. I baptize &

You will think it's drowning. I say to myself. Everything will be okay.
The river ebbing towards sky.

Nothing in sight but a star stripped sky, hungry wormhole but I am no cloverleaf, no horseback en Pays d'Auge.

All my life with these

Finless limbs, humble lungs. Only me and you blank boy. Friend wide and innocent as my soul. You say


Everything will be okay.
I sip water or I choke. You're right here & I cannot tell.


© I.K Inyang