Hungry Days Tammi Browne-Bannister 1 I overheard this conversation between the people sitting on the strip-up van seat in front of me. The latest was about a woman who had to run for her life. I heard that she was panting, dripping sweat, snot and tears, wearing a...
Friend, Let’s Go Atie Eric It was on one of those days – sitting behind my work desk, staring intently at the computer screen, sound of the standing fan wheezing left to right and left again, in a room that smells of fresh paint that makes my eyes water – that I...
Sway Sussie Anie She won’t be unseen. Her, leaning face neck and shoulders from the little window three floors up. There, waving a cerise spill of silk. She’s seen me, it’s hard not to: my conker-shiny face and my pressed navy shift amidst so many strangers wrapped...
Children of Assata Freestyle & Other Poems Deshawn McKinney Children of Assata Freestyle whether or not she did i wonderif we should. // an idea, in it an apple and tree, a...
Basket of Deplorables Linda Musita For six years I have functioned on weed, vodka and cocaine. I get my cocaine from a Nigerian; it’s terrible quality, but everything is shit in Nairobi. My weed comes from a woman in Kariokor; she has never changed her price. I...
