WHO PAUSED MY COUNTRY?
On a day of shame, a nation's freedom crumbles, its democratic pulse…
Read more →Tainted by ancient truisms, a concrete tongue lights a defiant torch of impurity.
Fear matured
in my mouth like concrete.
I couldn’t twirl
my tongue;
it was stuck
in my dialect.
Household
truisms that
you find what
you pay for.
Words spelled
doom. I have
no gods
to venerate.
Our antiquities
were infected;
I sit on thresholds;
light a cigarette,
as a torch
of impurity.
I am tainted
with a touch of
the menstruating census.