#BringBackOurGirls: ELBOWS AND PHLEGM
They grew sterile
A hundred ways – warm fingers
Too cold at the nape
These nights that swayed. Mothers tore
At festive lull Road singers
Chant a mild tune, lone
A hug only could douse
To a make-shelter heave of their elbow-pads The weary limbs alone was horror and faith
Locked so far with fright a