Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan

Oct 1, 2023 | fiyahlitmag.com | Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan |Lysz Flo |Jarred Thompson

My mother grips me tight and begins with the lathering. Sweet seed oil, rubbed so thick onto my skin it streaks brown arms with traces of ghostly white. It fades into a slick gloss as it melts in the morning sun, and the beads of her headdress tap along my arm as she leans over to grip me, to focus. I am old enough to dress myself but also old enough to understand she needs the disguise of kneading the anxious shaking out of her hands.

Sep 26, 2023 | nightmare-magazine.com | Wendy Wagner |Nwuguru Chidiebere Sullivan

Author’s Note: The poem was inspired by the unending struggle of the world and its continuous demand in our blood, where we must keep striving to stay afloat. In the last part of the poem, I demonstrated how at that point I was okay with much the world has to offer me, and was willing to not keep spending my blood and sweat as the price for survival in this world. —NCSCW: None. The night is fractured. Glimmers of somegoblins trick the wrinklesof the dark into a depthless eye-socketof a weeping owl.