Recollections Entombed Claws Out Like The Undead

By Donna Nongkhlaw

I commend our ability to mend

with tails cut off we wiggle, still

numerous moons have elapsed

eclipsing the cracks

these downpours have washed

flushed from plain sight

Asphyxiated by your apathy

this remedy, a fatal downswing

articulate tumultuous voices sing

but this silence is intoxicating

minced words of the stillwater burn

unflavored on our tongues

We are mouths full of dialogues

a handful of altruistic thoughts

the tree putrefied from the roots

no olive branches in the vicinity

we are but contrite criminals

bereft of hope and atonement.

By Donna Nongkhlaw