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poem submitted to "This or That, Vol. 35" poetry contest, Edward Ibeh, sponsor, 4/25/2026
With fingers crossed, he rewrites his disjointed plot, the struggling novelist who edits as he prays. Each character he births is and is not~ half ink, half ghost, half-truth he can’t quite phrase. He pulls a thread of meaning; shadows lean, waiting to see which version he’ll allow. They move as if the margins intervene, as if unwritten grace could shape them now. Yet in his hands, the draft begins to breathe~ a fragile faith disguised as narrative. He knows the lies his metaphors bequeathe, the hopes his careful sentences outlive. Something stirs and answers in the stilled air, as if it’s God who leans in to meet his prayer
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