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The Waslap of my father by Rethabile Masilo

[tabby title="Poem"] In my palm sits my father’s waslap*,as I knew it would one dayeach time I saw him scrub himselfwith it in the zinc tub beside our hut,darkening the water with his mood.I wash myself with that waslap,wishing he...

Museums by Sofia Mirzoeva

[tabby title="Poem"] we met on ivory steps in jittery morning airyou traced rows of empty tables under pale domeswhile he looked over his shoulder, nothing could resist his melodyand your mind was clean just this once. that day, someone was...

Mourning flowers by Rethabile Masilo

[tabby title="Poem"] Flowers are not for the living, at least not their entire blossom;a bunch of bloodshot or milky or inky petals in a fond hand,for example lilies or other flowers that prefer to grow on surfacesof ponds in a...

The history of Mangaung by Rethabile Masilo

[tabby title="Poem"] The forgotten ones are with us in these woodlands: a crunchunderfoot, the time it takes memory to go back in historyand return with its hands full... the names of all the cowskilled at funerals, the sound of their...

Sunday & Rain by Hanna Abi Akl

[tabby title="Poem"] BeerThe smell of candle(red fruits)Her, kissing the sheetsWith wet pink lips touchingAgainst the white linenNaked Outside, rainMud and wet soilDirty soles stampingOn the ground Peach blossom white bosomPeaking from under the sheet HerIn her red-coated glassesPerfumed in strawberry...