CRÉATIONS LITTÉRAIRES
The Voice is the First to Go
Her body reeked of hunger. I could smell it even when she laughed that precarious laugh of hers, like it was lurking behind her teeth and only fell out in place of a howl.
No one understood what drew me to the odd stranger who simply appeared one day at our local hangout. Maybe it was that lovely gap between her teeth, or the delicate ankle I leaped off an Eldoret Express to track. Or her eyes then, how they would crouch closer to her cheeks, fanned by featherless wings like the skeletons of twin cranes.
Sous le ciel des Antilles
Sous les torrents de cette nuit, je pense qu’il est temps de parler. C’est avec une grande patience délibérée que j’écris cette lettre. Je l’aurais écrite plus tôt, mais le temps m’en a empêché. Le ciel caché derrière ses couvertures grises a refusé de me donner des conseils et je n’ai pu prendre la décision toute seule. Je n’ai pas pu trouver les mots par moi-même. Je ne pouvais pas t’approcher sans médiation.
Provisional Notes on Dying Here
There are many words for this single thing: stabbed shot clot suicide heart attack drowned cancer strangled hacked fell from a ninth-floor balcony starved immolated age decapitated stroke death announcement death and funeral announcement gone to glory dust to dust celebration of a life well-lived, etc. But you are not really dead until a tongue-pink death