POETRY: It was not the Rope exactly

Horrible! Odious! Reprehensible!

But what was she even wearing?

Wasn’t her Visible Panty Line all dem boyz always saw?

Detached adjectives and morphemes

Followed diluted sympathy

As if a beast needs a rationale to blow.

On that blank date

That sour night

Reproach was secreted at the foyer of her essence.

A jacketed beast plundered her

And his semen hit a jackpot

An innocent dark seed was brooding in her

She either derns my plight

Or she will be to society a motile disease.

Like an ocean on top a lake, she melted.

When we labelled her, she died a bit

While we bought and sold blame, she died the more

We have another one on our hands

The rope didn’t kill her

She died when we rationed our love for her

Osamu Ekhator

Osamu Ekhator is a farmer and he writes. He’s @samuhub on social media