Poem
Julius Chingono
A Silhouette
A Silhouette
A Silhouette
His eyes are see-through.Through them I see
a yawning empty bread bin
a fridge stands
astounded
by its chilling emptiness
a stove, cold,
sits huddled in a corner
finds nothing to warm up
for mice swept the pantry
before seeking refuge
in refuse pits
in the neighbourhood.
Cockroaches left jackets
on hangers of webs
bills are forming
a small mound
on a formica table.
Yet - whenever I ask
How he is doing
he replies:
\'Fine. And you?\'
© 2003, Julius Chingono
From: Unpublished
From: Unpublished
Poems
Poems of Julius Chingono
Close
A Silhouette
His eyes are see-through.Through them I see
a yawning empty bread bin
a fridge stands
astounded
by its chilling emptiness
a stove, cold,
sits huddled in a corner
finds nothing to warm up
for mice swept the pantry
before seeking refuge
in refuse pits
in the neighbourhood.
Cockroaches left jackets
on hangers of webs
bills are forming
a small mound
on a formica table.
Yet - whenever I ask
How he is doing
he replies:
\'Fine. And you?\'
From: Unpublished
A Silhouette
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