those bones are not my child
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Sisters mine, beloveds those bones are not my child. I am a woman at point zero; unburnable. The wind done gone into a dark alliance forged from the devil’s pulpit. Daughters of the Sun, Women of the Moon a mercy, please. Let’s make dust tracks and leave the dilemma of this ghost to those who…
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You’re on the porch with the broom sweeping the same spot, getting the same sound-dry straw against dry leaf caught in the loose-dirt crevice of the cement tiles. No phone, no footfalls, no welcome variation. It’s 3:15. Your ears strain, stretching down the block, searching through schoolchild chatter for that one voice that will give…
Tichaona Chinyelu 