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Said One Mistress To Another

Said One Mistress To Another


He is not convinced you're hurt;
you're not bleeding
He forgets you bleed monthly when you're not hurting
He doesn't understand your soul speaks the moon's language
Yet he expertly gathers rain clouds in your heart
But his thirst to leave your earth dry and cracked
Is never sated by the rivers you cry him.
No he wants oceans instead
Has you fishing for hope
In the winter of his rejection.
He mistakes you for a baobab
How he blows you and bends you backwards
And shakes your branches
With his hurricane passion
Then makes firewood of your pain
And tears your roots from your truth.
You aught to call a spade a spade,
You dig?
This man is your grave
And you are flesh made bone
And your ghost has been crying
For a place to call home
But heaven is fully booked
And hell has a guest list
So you are condemned to purgatory.

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Vuyokazi Ngemtu

Vuyokazi Ngemtu

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Edladleni

Edladleni

Squint your eyelids even tighter and you’re bound to hear the last remaining echo of the neighbourhood gossip: whose son, just yesterday a tottering tot, has gone rouge and robbed the Somali’s spaza shop, which spinster is shacking up with whose philandering husband, whose daughter was spotted disembarking a Nigerian mogul’s car and who owes the mashonisa for the weave his girlfriend is busy posting selfies in, while their two children go hungry in some drought-ridden village the couple only visit on Christmas!

Said One Mistress To Another

Said One Mistress To Another

He is not convinced you're hurt; you're not bleeding He forgets you bleed monthly when you're not hurting He doesn't understand your soul speaks the moon's language Yet he expertly gathers rain clouds in your heart But his thirst to leave your earth dry and cracked

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