Suspension

By MALIKA NDLOVU

from Invisible Earthquake

 

1st May, 12h38

I’m navigating in and out
Of mental combat
Trying to figure
Exactly what station I’ve pulled into,
How to answer that simple question
How are you?

An invisible earthquake dulls my senses.
I hear myself speak
From a distance,
See their eyes blur in sympathy
Feel their embraces
Even in my suspension

From within the torn earth
Of my body
Which bears your death followed by your birth
Comes a gasp or a howl, or a laugh.
Sometimes I shrink into my jacket.
I wave goodbye and walk away.
There is nothing more to say.

 

 

Malika Ndlovu is an internationally published South African poet, playwright, performer, and arts project manager.

Click here to purchase Issue 04

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Suspension

Related Posts

Image of a a large yellow Weeping Willow tree against a bright blue sky.

Selections from Lettres en forêt urbain

BERTRAND LAVERDURE
Your saffron-colored sticks flatter my circular daydreams. The road is a second-hand dealer of wood who doesn’t mark their prices. A colony of bags, spare with its conclusions. You are the lookout post of a dead stream. Calm like a descent, breath held [...]

Glass: Five Sonnets

MONIKA CASSEL
In ’87 I see guardsmen walk their AK-47s / on the platforms. The trains slow down but never stop. I think, / my mother was born in such a different Germany, but this is true for everyone / —so why can’t I stop looking?