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Efe Ogufere

Kop and Budding Poet.
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Latest posts by Efe Ogufere (see all)

I grew up thinking

that the body of a woman is a house.

an abandoned house around the corner,

a repository for beautiful broken things,

walk too briskly and you’d miss it.


it must have been that first night


Mother neatly folded

sobs between her wrappers

and carefully placed them locked in a box

deep breaths and a despondent smile as

she walked out and dared a lion to bare his teeth.

she must have forgotten she was a pacifist.


Just Dancing


it must have been the crunching sound

of breaking bones dancing to a tune,

a marriage of fists and naked flesh or-

the steel in her voice urging me to go

back to denial, as she whispered,


back to bed Jethro, your father and I are just dancing


Read more Poetry here

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