poetry from africa
fayola’s post about water in africa inspired me to look over some of the writing i did in kenya/ghana. i was overwhelmed by broken glass, as you’ll see. they’ve yet to be edited.
cracked
i stepped over a bottle of broken glass
the pieces all soft wax fusing
to the ground to the soft
earth melting like no glass
should, should i
pick up the glass a
woman picked up the glass
and came to me,
came scrabbling jibberish
begging for me to buy buy her
broken glass
broken wax
her cheek had three curley hairs
several growths found themselves
beneath her lip, her eye,
her bloodshot eye
and she carried rotten eggs in a bag
or in her armpits
so i say,
woman you are too much for me
woman i am overcome by your
overcoming taste
she screamed quietly and placed
a piece of the soft molten glass wax
in my mouth and i bit hard
bloody hard
a response to “bottle” by rainer maria
She looked through me and said,
Baby there’s the moon
Then she offered to sing to it
Sing it down for me
But only if I asked her.
I asked her and asked her
She’d forgotten her promise
I screamed at her,
Time to make the stars lonely girl
Her tongue tasted sand
Her lips melted together
I pointed.
Baby
The moon.
Her eyes dripped a few pieces of glass
Baby, where’s the moon
She looked through me
And said nothing.
