(Written on 7 December 2007 to R)
There was something wrong on that day
when you cursed me, did break my laser disks
under the heels of your shoes
and you did fire shots
leaving bullet holes
in the door of the bathroom,
did just miss me
with a bullet leaving a burn-scar on my upper arm
and the children did laugh while I was crying out
while I did take cover and were hiding in the bath.
There was murder in your eyes
when you pressed the barrel
of the pistol against my head
and I heard the hammer click
and I did know
that you are totally mad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A narrow escape of a murder attack. Please kindly check my poems " Hope" and " The beauty of death" Kingsley Egbukole