The wife of the born-again Christian husband in Kampala

The faithful wife of a born-again Christian husband is a very baffled woman. She will slap her cheeks with a bible So that she doesn’t laugh at the jokes of another man. Her husband, according to the wedding vows, will provide enough humor until death. She will hold her aching thighs together and pray for…

Circle of women

Your head is a hive,you are not sure you will survive.Women form a circle around youIn their eyes, your stories flow like The Nile.They collect themand hand you the cup.         Go aheadthey saybut you hesitate.        It’s okaythey sayand you receive. You raise the cup to your lips,you pass…

But How Can I Be Me?

I am not who I want to be The only person in my way is me The lives of the ‘amour propre’ I see But how can I be me? I don’t want to die an arm candy I really want to be happy Happiness without being sappy But how can I be me? But…

Social media love

Babes, Please I beg, Let us not waste time on grammar! The time between is too short to waste on long words, Want to is- Wanna and Going to is-Gonna Here we are, Fingering gadgets, #Whatsupping, instead of twerking. Snapchatting instead of freaking each other, Groping clefts of throbbing flesh and skin Babes, Do not…

This Loose Upon My Eyes

This loose upon my eyes Held tight in shape by society’s lies Reduced me to help. Reduced me to help. This loose upon my eyes Which society likes Trying to put these turkeys above me I am weak, I am starved, they might make a Panda of me They like me in this mud He…

Melanin Queen

Her hands by her side Head down Shoulders dropped and eyes fixed on an unknown prize She snails by in fear Fear of pointing fingers and heart breaking laughter Those words like a butcher’s knife swims through her melancholic melanin skin She wonders if Odomankoma (God) painted her in haste She has blood for tears…

You Are Woman

For a season barely eons old Immersed myself in quietude Awaiting the day woman shall step into her own Trapped in this cloud of silent obscurity How does the world blithely pretend? For all the good there is out there Permit me to lay it bare How they sweetly make compelling claim Liberate the woman;…

Since you attended my funeral, I’ll also attend yours

Since you attended my funeral, I’ll also attend yours. I’ll arrive just before the coffin Enters the church And join the line of weepers. Weepers, mind you, not mourners. Weeping is the physical evidence for facebook That people actually cared about you. But mourning… Mourning is the spiritual evidence That people actually cared about you….

My younger sister (How these things go)

She is the size of my palm the day I first see her writhing in white slime, hair slicked back       like wet maize tassels on her head. for a few weeks her skin sheds, and we joke about how much the chunks of dead skin on the soft spot of her head, weigh when she…

Poetra Ama Asantewa Diaka

Poetra Ama Asantewa Diaka is as a young and combative Ghanaian artist, living between the African country and the US. She doesn’t want to be boxed into the definition of “poet” or “writer” – she rather describes herself as a “storyteller“, since the term “encompasses all the ways she can tell a story” – as…