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
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
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, AfricanWriter.com, Ink In Thirds, Poetry Potion & elsewhere. His debut stage play Mortuary Encounters is forthcoming from Swift Publishers.