Mourning Kanjikaa
The first night:
flour
is spilt
on the floor
Perhaps she’ll come
She will come –
She will come and leave a footprint
Perhaps we’ll sleep
We will sleep –
We will sleep all through our mourning
Perhaps she’ll see
She will see –
She will never see us again
Perhaps we’ll tear
We will tear
We will tear out our hair
Perhaps she’ll stop
She will stop
She will stop halfway
Perhaps we’ll forget
We will forget
We will forget ourselves in grief
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