Corey Mwamba

menu

Entries for 7th Oct 2019

From my throat came the sky
and my feet pressed the tears
that fell down my cheeks
into grains of dust to form
earth

I light the pyre
breathe in
and sing black sound

It pierces, diffuses,
sussurates, suffused with
blood, the taste of metal.

Spat on. The throng continues,
unconcerned, gazing. I coat them with ash

And they press diamonds