No ordinary fruit flowers under the Udala tree. Instead, it has vines like braided hair, branches like fingers, roots like crimson lips, a trunk that pulses like my lover’s full hips. Close your eyes. The air rustling beneath this sweet Udala tree hums Ijeoma, Ijeoma, Ijeoma.
Frame not Included. Due to dimensions of Original Pieces some parts of the artwork are susceptible to being cut off.