A Fight In Makokoba by Clemence Chinyani

Image - dyn.politico.com

 I was there,
Standing with the watchers,
Adding my voice to the din,
Saying things, to nobody,
Flinching, Scared for him,
The one who was drunk,
And the other, boiled-as-an-owl,
Throwing fits wildly as if fighting with the air,
After a while they rested,
Like two turkey-cocks,
Balloon lipped, blue-eyed,
Spitting bloodied spit,
One started about the other's mother,
The crowd fell into a frenzy,
Someone pushed the other's supporter,
And the sun slid an inch down to it's awaiting bed,
The beer hall security personnel laughed,
And the short blade knife darted through space,
From the back-pocket to the chest cavity,
Drawing blood,
End of the fight, someone toll the bell,
Fun's over a man is down.

Your Father II by Mgcini Nyoni

Your father

used to sit by the bridge

at the shops

smoking marijuana

The man

you call daddy

is not your father

Damn!

How I wish he was

They used to say

your father

was one of the young man

who mugged people

by the clinic intersection.

I heard they stabbed

your father to death

two years ago

in a senseless street scuffle

Your father

used to sit by the bridge

at the shops

propositioning young girls;

I now know

the incident

that produced you

was rape.

Your father

used to sit by the bridge

at the shops

drinking undiluted brandy

They say

he was stabbed to death

in a senseless street scuffle

two years ago.