The Skin Bag written by: Ikechukwu Obiorah   In the bushes of my skin bag All crickets turn into a deejay Singing lyrics like ass in a sling The wind comes murmuring in The trees of my bones and the Inside cloud becomes obscure The colour of the river in the sky Of my skin is as red as crimson And the fishwives sulky and huffy All the various leaves in my forest Are dancing the thrum of the whiff … Continue reading The Skin Bag