Songs of Anisha
“Heartsnatcher,”
by Wirndzerem G. Barfee
(Or She Used to Be One I knew)
You burgled my chest
And stole my heart. Then left my rest.
It happened like a cyclone, fast and loud,
As you kicked up the dust-cloud
And left me blind
Without my mind.
You had possessed me only that long,
Then the saturnalian season stormed along
With its own rage and dream-chasers;
You jumped on the train for free,
Taking my stolen heart along with you
And leaving me behind with an empty rib-cage.
Tell me, what town have you gone to?
Tell me, who did you sell my heart to?
What market, what price and what currency?
When are you coming back this way?
Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been living
Borrowed beats; tell me when you’ll be back,
Because I’ve got real need for those ventricles.
“Confession of a Kenyan,”
by JKS Makokha
Give me low-cost liquor, intoxicate me
Give me a bumper bribe, sleaze me,
Give me grimy gossip, slander me,
Give me much of such misdemeanours, interdict me.
But
Don’t give me newly blunted stainless steel machetes
Or vernacular radio broadcasts of blinded hate;
Don’t give me also homemade bow and/or arrows.
Such are gifts never again to be accepted or/and allowed.
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