The federal constitution

of ghosts, 9102 as amended
stipulates that a ghost is a map.
Section 7 (e) says familiar ghosts
are hard to name; some are
adjectives trying to modify what
could have been; most are
conjunctions of things that
gnaw at deserts: in a way
that is an equilibrium to
something pauciflorous.

Section 7 (f) explains that in a
consensus of some sort, in
that psychological department
of chaos, man is a machine in
the day & a grave when night
blankets him: all ghosts are
advised to eat night.

Section 9 says if a ghost is
lost (in transition), the night
becomes a pathway into something
fractional (call it a home
outside a home), an
old body sterilizing happiness
with loss: unveiling a mechanism
that is—space.

Subject to the provisions of section
7 (e) of this constitution, ghosts move
like history, no time zones splintering
them—reinventing & planting
in little circles.

Section 1 (a), which is the most
important, says no ghost should ever answer
the question: how do you measure the
circumference of departed laughter?

Since the war (—)
ended, mother & I have been
eating the same ghost for dinner
—his laughter sits quietly between
us like unread messages.

Othuke Umukoro is a poet & playwright. His demons have appeared in Brittle Paper,, Ink In Thirds, Poetry Potion & elsewhere. His debut stage play Mortuary Encounters is forthcoming from Swift Publishers.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The federal constitution

  1. Ottah Osondu says:

    No comment 😛😀😀

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