All the women in my life are hungry
I have written this one hundred times
I do not know how else to tell it
how to write
the girl by the roadside
the bruised peach
the narrow collar
the night full of birds
Her body is a long river
that cuts through every room
see her in the kitchen
see her standing behind the gate
see how she cups her hands
for soap
for bread
for sweet milk
Tell me
where do I put her?
this girl pressed against the border
this girl swallowing her papers whole
this girl bird-wailing through a fence
See her hands
holding the broken saucer
stitching the skirt’s hem
cradling the last orange
begging the names of God
Where do I put her?
Tell me what is owed
here
the fist of hair
here
the cut of lip
here
the legs
split like fruit
Who will take her?
this sorrow-of-home-girl
this river-of-bees-girl
this blood-honey-girl
this night-singing-girl
this throat full of ghosts
~ Sarah Lubala
Sarah Lubala works as a Development Worker for an Education NGO in Johannesburg. When she’s not at the office, she can be found in gardens, drinking copious amounts of tea and reading Pablo Neruda’s love sonnets.