Tuesday Poem by Roland Nduka Akpe

Words hid in a corner
dark with remembrance.

Words dumb from scarred silence
from long neglect
ask me to speak – tongueless.

Beautiful things sit beautifully
in a bar called Bravado,
full of insecure blandness.

She sits cross-legged on a barstool,
feet several inches of special –
off the floor.

Floors are resigned expressions.
We all fall in them screaming,


How quiet will you be
when the dark nipple of oxygen
with areola of breath is withdrawn?

I am silent like a hungry baby
tucked alive in fist of brown earth:

Is a muffled shriek
a coo?