in the wake of what she never done
her children came added
one by one
muted notes rolled
from brown trumpet horns
promised dreams for her
that they always never born

the deathing of a african queen

her standing there by herself
in a long Africa gown
caressing in a hunger
swelling softly on inside her
in the kitchen sitting down
her done forgot 

her keep going to dark men
who they pleasing in her
standing there on her knees
begging for they help
wishing for something in herself
that her scared it aint so
and this howcome her stomach all big
and all poke out again 

her in the hall by herself
in a room full of people
her done asked would they come
talking ‘bout how her practicing
how her gone write down her name
her sitting here her close beside me
wrapping up in words
they not her own

her somewhere in the dark
squatting down in her arms
fingering there on the edge
of where the others they come
holding on to her children
they drowning one by one
alone in the memory
of what it never was done

Copyright © 1995 Asili Ya Nadhiri