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Expression Eruption: Folk-tale We Fell Fall

In the whole of the Igbo land
In and out even West and North
In days when the clay had its pride
No one does it better
Better than Ukpe the fire maker.
Bound in reds and white chalk paint
Bare eyes might watch
Bushy grass and two stones
Bla bla bla he incarnate and sings
Behold from nowhere flame he makes
No one does it better until we realize
That his songs were just a blush
The folk tale we all fell for.

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