-Alfred Olaiya Mother, mother, send down the rope,           alujanjan kirijan. Mother, mother, send down the rope,           alujanjan kirijan. Night’s glints slit tendrils into hollow footprints on desolate playground. Sẹ̀kẹ̀rẹ̀, termites-loam draped, will not indulge in this silenced chorus. Grandmother, passage of your tongue; sinuous labyrinth, buoyed me to crested currents—plunged in flipping leaves; of the … Continue reading Memories from Night Tales