Coal Bins by Donal Mahoney

By Mgcini Nyoni -


Chicago, the South Side,
long before Barack Obama

those I'd love see live
anywhere they like
are those so black
they up long planks
in the heat of summer
wheelbarrow coal
so bright it pours
in a silver seiche
down chutes
through windows
of bungalow basements
crashing in coal bins 
of new masters

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Life By Michael Lee Johnson

By -
Image
M y life began with a skeleton  with a smile and bubbling eyes in my garden of dandelions. Everything else fell off the edge, a jigsaw puzzle piece cut in half. When young, I pressed against my mother’s breast, but youthful memories fell short. I tried at 8 to kiss my father,  but he was a welder, fox hunter, coon hunter, and voyeuristic man. My young life was a mixture of black, white, dark dreams, and mellow yellow sun bright hopes. Rewind, sunshine was a stranger in dandelion fields, shadows in my eyes. I grabbed my injured legs leap forward into the future. I’m now a vitamin C boy it keeps me immured from catching colds or Covid-19. Everything now still leaks, in parts, but I press forward.    
read more

Letter From The Other Side By Chris Chakwana

By Mgcini Nyoni -
Image
I am that seed that was denied the chance to grow. That cock early morning did not crow, the fifth wheel terminated without my will. I am the child you aborted that child you denied the warmth of your womb, tenderness of your breast that child you relegated to the tomb. But No! I refuse to rest, because am that child whose loss u didn't grieve. That child u denied the right to live. Am the child you obliterated, mercilessly annihilated, callously incinerated am the soul whose life you separated that child whose death you celebrated. A product of your reckless behaviour Juvenile delinquency, miss know it all. I am that sad soul u destroyed the abortion pill you employed. I am that being you erased, that life that can never be replaced. Dear mother am that child on your conscience. Your secret yes!, but your daily torment. Like a stain, my memory will ever be your daily pain. I am your mental anguish, disposed of me like rubbish you selfish being. I...
read more