I am hungry for a love my country cannot afford. I want a love that will buffer my mistakes even before I commit them A love that has mapped out the possibilities of my existence and made room for each one of them A love that doesn’t need me to clamour to identify as black…
Fixable
You are fixable Hold my hand and let me mend your brokenness. It will hurt less the falling and crushing You will get better at sculpturing your bits and pieces. I won’t leave. I’ll wait for daybreak and we’ll figure out what to do with all this sunshine. *** Link to the Italian translation
Jambula tree
When Sylvie and I are six we eat jambula till our tongues turn indigo then we travel home with night licking our heels. In the morning, our foreheads still anointed in violet blessings, we twine our stick-arms around its branches and stuff banana fibre dolls in the hollows of its roots. We swaddle make-believe babies…
Silent hate
“Am a man” he says, The first being Don’t forget you came from me and not me from you Keep your voice low Cry on the pillow Don’t let them know It’s a shame Just do this for me Very simple Cook for me Wash for me Part your legs for me And don’t even…
Jean Rhys
I think of the divided self of Jean Rhys in Dominica, her invisible self in London, and the depth, scope, scale of her writing: What was achievable in her lifetime is achievable now, the winter’s tale of Jean Rhys, and her tragedy of errors, of losing a child, and her failed marriages. She was a…
Sseebo Gwe Wange (Sir, you are mine)
Ssebo gwe wange! You pound me like the engalabi I slap the wall to your rhythm Sharp, Unforgettable, you are lightening Subdued, I moan like thunder Your sweat erodes layers of my sanity I’m in a dream and shouldn’t wake I’m in a nightmare Ssebo gwe wange! You hold two balls of tropical sunshine over…
A Beating for Love
Your fist pounded my face In shock I stood there Not moving, not screaming The first time it happened You said you beat me because you loved me You put the blame on me I don’t remember doing wrong Your gambling and drinking Your womanising and flirting Your problems and woes Were all my fault…
River Styx
The Nile is a moving graveyard The ground is soaked up with blood The Nile has more skin than most The Nile? You mean river Styx, and what a price you have paid to cross it. The ground is shaking with grieve, The city is crying tears of blood, The streets are loud but quiet,…
Hypersexualization of the African woman
Fetishized My worthiness is measured in cup sizes and big booty. Integrity is dismissed and compromised. Body parts named policed and sexualized. They say: “it’s the sway of my African belle derriere the clumsiness of my breasts the fullness of my lips and the arch of my back”. Objectified by the media, my nudity is…
Loving God
Have you ever fallen in love with the sea Loved her so fiercely Your orgasms are unending Uncompleting. Unrestraining. Damn… I love when she’s mad When she reaches out in waves Tidal energies immobilise my senses I rise into her Deep into her Feel her heart beat In the middle of her vulvic ocean Motion…