red—a stroke, out of my wrist pours a river; but I amtoo scared to swim. in all my dreams I see theturquoise sea spitting out stars, a constellation of dreamswhose fruits were plucked even before harvest.a hand, like a sickle, stands at the door of my mind,trying to pull me out of this poemto make … Continue reading The body as a canvas of broken colours~by Ewa Gerald Onyebuchi