Written by: Simbarashe Fungurani

Here the clammy flesh
Of the hopeful worker 
In a flicker found rest.
After a harsh crackle of muscle
On an acre of steel rails,
Here, he spent his thirst.
Never schooled worker, 
Donkey pilgrim to a Mecca 
Beast is despised.
At the kick of the factory clock
In cruel steel tents
In full blaze of the sun
You spilled sweat to the last litre,
Toiled, & tip toed
On Christmas in sunny shoes,
Starched ties & ashen shirts 
Over a tattered tin of some stale brew,
One you took as a crew.
These hostels were built, 
Says a school of thought,
To hat colonial guilt 
Stuck in Buss System’s golden gut
Like iron filling clog a file till its teeth are sunken.
Old pastel flats, they plunk 
Daily to frown at the pink sun
They do not shift till time’s finish. 
Their sad-cherry has twisted auburn. 
As lofty as they rise
They must sink into the soils
They so despise!