The ghetto street embellished with clamors of tin and coordinated jumps,
Screams of ‘Chicago! Chicago! Letha ama tin!!!’
Hunger and the fullness of a childhood spent in the dusty ghetto street.
A street forlorn of names,
A place of beautiful arms, children, legs, kaffir hair, hungry smiles, love.
These are daughters,
daughters of the dust.
this poem appears in our print quarterly number eight, Dear South Africa.
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