Chinedum Ekwobi Poet Rhyme

The Phone Number of Death

The phone number of death we dial,
When we near a poisoned phial
To rashly swallow its content,
And actualize a suicidal intent:
Our breathing soon in wheezes,
What the cemetery richly pleases,
A gripping of our tummies in feeble resistance
Every offered revival, vain assistance
Others to start rehearsing their goodbye
To us on a wished hearse lie

And the same phone number we try,
As we enrage folks that skin fry
Before advancing cops of pity dry
And into claims of being surrounded not pry
To pick their life sentence with smiles wry…

Now that I’ve said so I shan’t cry.

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