The hedgehog is
***sixty-thousand years old
of blooming quills prow
***to sun that tucked his grassy head
below his crusted belly lorn,
***see him ramming up upon his prey
the grasshopper is play
***in the brown-spike blades
wet with dotted-kisses of the whiffs.
***his forages are chirruping heralds
***and off the black hissing snake clambers
up into the cliffs and at summer
***beyond the lintel sky his calamus
torpedo up tumbling off like bustards
***where the sullen clouds clutch.
Francis Annagu have been published or forthcoming on Galway Review, Kalahari Review, Tuck Magazine, PIN, Novel Afrique, Potomac Review, Ayiba Magazine, Commonline Journal, Sunflower Collective, WRR, Dead Snakes, Lunaris Review, ThePoetCommunity, Black Pride Magazine, and other. Currently working on his first poetry book, he lives in Kaduna, Nigeria.
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