Poetry
A Drought Ended
He would throw her across the room. Some men make sport of such things. I was warned to see and blind. Still, I watched through the window how her children, forced into a ritual dandy shandy, dodged their wailing mother. The day she heaved the pot from the stove, a drought
He would throw her
across the room.
Some men make sport of such things.
I was warned to see and blind.
Still, I watched through the window
how her children, forced into a ritual
dandy shandy, dodged their wailing mother.
The day she heaved the pot from the stove,
a drought ended in Pell River.
Colin a cumulus of steam screamed.
Behind the bamboo fence
I joined neighbours
who had secretly danced for rain.
Serve him right, they said,
injustice don’t sleep long like death.
More About the Author
Juleus Ghunta
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