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SHOOTING PLAYS (a poem by Tochukwu Precious Eze)

Read Time:1 Minute, 26 Second
father spells his name with his footsteps
I hear screams from across the house
e-z-e! e-z-e! 1-2-3! e-z-e!

I named the tv Nkechi, after our neighbor
who never shuts up. I think they’re related—
they look the same around the stomach

my brother thinks life is a song
always nodding and moving his legs
to nothing. if life were a song, we’re on a long

pause. my sister thinks life is a play
crying one second and laughing another
if life were a play, we aren’t shooting anymore

they say some men, hearing the shooting
had stopped, went out to play
football, and bullets scored against their bodies

mum likes to pretend like everything is right
like the song is loud, and the play is on
like the director just screamed ‘action’

and her role is to smile the heavens down
into closed doors. I think I’d smile with her
till the day comes when it’s safe to play

with leather balls and plastic tins
and not concede to bullets of steel
and those of corona

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