Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Africa in not my land

Head on clash
Voices smash
Shriek on shriek
Phone goes crash

Dash home for
face-on-face
confront
with domestic

Try and
calm her
but she seems
possessed

“Don’t touch me”
she spits
eyeballs
like pellets

Let’s sit

We speak
her words
mutate

I’m wrong
She’s right
She’s black
I’m white
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