[lit-ideas] Wednesday poem
- From: "Mirembe Nantongo" <nantongo@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 2 Jun 2005 06:07:34 +0100
insolent
beautiful he lopes past
my door
i speak he
passes silent
my voice a
wasted
thing he passes
silent
wolf
i would say if i could
conceive of his
prey he lopes i sing of
where his neck joins
his collarbone his thigh
his hip his hands his
mp3 player he lopes he is dark and
beautiful he is
fog
he passes silent angels
pass with him he knows nothing
of when this
voice my voice shattered worlds engendered
others he knows he is my love my anger
we are bound we are not like
the others he is my
teenage son i his
mother
Mirembe Nantongo
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