I am not here
I am not me
this is not my country
the rivers and the streams
they do not meet the sea
the rain comes down heavy
but not for me
Y
Black like a mind at night
swallowing a canary and
white dove mid-flight
as monogamous as crows
despite a campaign of gun
and dynamite their flock grows
kiskadee kiskadee kiskadee
stealing sugar from kitchen bowls
soul
of echo
no echo now
bodies
vanish among the light poles
Z
Two weeks later, I woke
I smelled smoke
the kind you cannot see
kiss me, kiskadee
the kind you cannot see
though you know
you can be free
you know
a bush fire is raging
I go flying
the asphalt roads are streams
I watch him each day
like a mirror he answers
two weeks later, I turn
to check, to see
is he next to me?
by Andre Bagoo