Ayokunle Samuel Betiku

of a receding sun—star -lings returning to roost. Here, the night isn’t a cat burglar carting away the light in our bones. It is in fact the warm warble of God...

What does it mean to hold sorrow like hammered nails? What does it mean to carry the grave as a hammering chest? I see your heart split into blue and gray by the embrace of thorns,...