once he sat buddha-like in his sweetly-scented sanctuary she walked in typhoon-like – unfurled his head unfurled his mind unfurled his loins today he lies beached-whale-like in his sickly-smelling sanctuary not knowing where his plans went or why the well-thumped book of astrology lay useless beside him as he studies the decimal family-plan calendar in his hand crossed twelve times where it failed.
© F-K Omoregie 2016
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July 5, 2016 at 14:16
Very good!
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July 8, 2016 at 10:00
thank you, Sarah!
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