No air at home
I starve for lack of air
Let me breath, husband
The air at home is ugly
So allow me air
About the Creator
Nneka Anieze
Hello there,
Nice to meet you. My name is Nneka, mom of one living in Windsor, Ontario. I enjoy reading a lot and have decided to try my hand at writing. Hoping to better my skills and perfect my writing skills. I hope you enjoy my writing
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More stories from Nneka Anieze and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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