my beloved’s shadow
thins this perpetual
building’s hallway

charles taylor’s war
once turned mortuary

my concerns
are serious

and here

echoes yesterday’s
desperate voices

of a country
that takes

takes

and leaves us
for western media
to be making headlines of.

my people’s president speaks
only ants gathered
on tv

because the sugared lies
grow fatter

and waiting
for bread
stretches like tomorrow

tomorrow
tomorrow
tomorrow

“this old man
should be ashamed
of himself”

a man’s teeth behead
fresh fruit
of his words

plump green flies
follow him

i wave another
from my face.

i am a man
who thinks
he can love
a woman

in a country
fucked by my people’s
president

now my beloved’s
head naps on my lap

someone carries
a fruit bowl
that vanishes into children’s cries

my sweaty palms
grip
ticket 425

“wait here

she will be seen soon”
a nurse says

wait wait
damned these words.

i humor my anger

and laugh at all the hunger
death
unemployment
praise singers

while trying to understand
what makes my country
entitled to ask me to die for it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Jonathan Cosens Photography on Unsplash