Umcimbi.

Chant until your birthmark itch,dance until the crust of your soles cracks….

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Just A Fly.

I have seen the same colour of butterfly since the season started…clubbed antennae ,its dull drown thorax composed of black striped segments ,excessive flavones …
…silk girdle,overlapping rows of tiny scales ….even in its amusing fluttering flight it is no longer as conspicuous as those I’ve seen in my childhood.
…grey abdomen,cylindrical body..coiled proboscises……dull as diurnal moths…
…as if endangered their behavior lately is forever pure aposematism ,their sound are mimicries of defence mechanism.

Mwasi.

Mwasi runs into her yard,calabash in one hand.. empty….
…..”Mama …mama ,I have seen them….their skin texture is toned,coloured like the fine maize in the mortar…”
She rushes to meet her,clad in a tigress hide,locks tied in a crown ..her humongous bosoms, bounce against her chest proudly….her nipples swollen, Rudo’s midday meal. Fire rekindle in one hand,the first instinct of a mother is protect her daughter….
“..their nose are like beaks of woodpeckers,their eyes are the colour of the sea..” ……
Mwasi trembles, goose bumps ooze sweat of adrenaline…her vital organ pounds ,her diaphragm tremors ….
“They bipedal the land…hair tiny golden reeds…. I know Mama ,I have seen how the breath of my forefathers sway them….”

Africa.