Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, November 25, 2012

black child

by Ayeni Tolulope

The blood of the deep,
hoisted from darkness,  
drank by monsters,
each drop a curse,
where it touches death yields,
in fields of sorrow,
our seas boil with its curse,
our hearts darkened; a gold-lined purse,
still it courses out in rivers,
each drop fuelling an inferno,
in the end it'd drain,
and the deep would be our end.

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