| | | | | | | TOYIN ADEWALE-GABRIEL
House cleaning
The truth consorts with her.
The beautiful lies are washed away.
The voice erases itself.
The bed sheet is cured of the smell.
The abyss licks the vows.
The moving van creaks with books.
The shelves are filled with relief.
The bones groan past her door
And his name is the calendar
Thrown away in the alley of rats
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