Gedicht
Charles Mungoshi
THE SIXTH YEAR
THE SIXTH YEAR
THE SIXTH YEAR
She’ll be coming in nowin a few minutes
out of the cold.
Warming the bed
I stare at the mount
of months of unwashed underwear
in a dark corner of our cramped bedroom.
My feet
have written
a clear message
from the door to the bed
in the accumulated dust
of years on the floor.
When she comes in
I will stare at her
And –
(as this stage of our relationship
now demands) –
She will not even see my stare.
© 2008, Charles Mungoshi
Publisher: First published on PIW in a special Zimbabwean edition, 10th June 2008,
Publisher: First published on PIW in a special Zimbabwean edition, 10th June 2008,
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THE SIXTH YEAR
She’ll be coming in nowin a few minutes
out of the cold.
Warming the bed
I stare at the mount
of months of unwashed underwear
in a dark corner of our cramped bedroom.
My feet
have written
a clear message
from the door to the bed
in the accumulated dust
of years on the floor.
When she comes in
I will stare at her
And –
(as this stage of our relationship
now demands) –
She will not even see my stare.
THE SIXTH YEAR
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