Isifo

“Happy Women’s day Gogo..” Nomakhwezi’s indolent voice jerk a nerve in me…Mother swallows gulps of her forever dripping mucus.. “Ungubani wena?” Her decayed teeth no longer committed to their gums move to a rhythm of their own…as scattered as her memory…

Her once nourished skin now hugs her peeking bones firmly,dry arteries pulsate visibly with lumps of clotted tides…

Her eyes protrude in attempted strength,

Her eyebrows that were once healthy and bushy..now ,like feathers of a fowl half plucked for a feast…

..the teacher of courage now frail and timid…the fetid scent of her sore blistered body lurks in the air…

Her head bald ,and pale….tight sinews of green muscles vividly spells agony….

…all the memories of her bold voice I held dear…now sail off in the sound waves of her pained half whispers….

Broody Hen (Poetry Anthology)

The Narrative.

© Copyright Reserved 2018

2 thoughts on “Isifo

  1. > Her once nourished skin now hugs her peeking bones firmly,dry arteries pulsate visibly with lumps of clotted tides

    Lines like this, are rare indeed. Like nuggets of bitter-sweetness found in the daily meal; surprising, tasteful, cause for pause and reflection.

    Liked by 1 person

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