Songs of Anisha
“In a Den Of Robbers,”
by Mdika Nick Tembo
And the old hyena entered the den of robbers
and started snoring, his oil-like phlegm
coursing down his wrinkled chin. While the
butchers glistened with sweat over who should
have the lion’s share. And they began
taunting him for not sloughing the national bull.
And he said to them, “It is written, ‘when
you are a dunderhead, you have to be a
watcher;’ but you remind me of my yesteryears.”
And the termites showed him their scarlet teeth
And he, in return, showed them his toothless gums.
“Fury,”
by Fungisayi Sasa
If you must ask, I will tell you.
Look at my lips, they are moist and
My belly is full.
We are practically choking on surplus food.
There is no hunger.
If you must know, I will confide in you.
As you can see, I am well and
Daily my glass of clean water overflows.
We have the rains coming soon.
There is no cholera.
If you must interfere, don’t.
If you feel compelled to voice your concerns,
Shut-up!
You see death,
There is only victory.
You want to barge in here and help me?
(Get lost you dogs and keep your fleas.)
There is no need.
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