Death, a poem by Nyashadzashe Chikumbu at
Bimo Mentara



written by: Nyashadzashe Chikumbu



death is not a flock of blue jays
& it’s not a mould of black mud
death is not the strong smell of iron hitting grass, no!
death is not a field of wildflowers
nor the hurrying of feet
& shedding of tears by air-locked strangers
death is the strong smell of your cologne
hugging our sheets
death is the rattling of your laughter
in the kitchen sink
death are the tiny little feet of your daughter
who’ll grow without her father
death is the cold lonely feeling
creeping into bed with me
impersonating you

Latest posts by Nyashadzashe Chikumbu (see all)
  • Death - October 10, 2020