checking the label
for low saturated fats —
autumn trees

too small for meat . . .
the jogger leaves a snail
to cross the path

a bite
beyond my hand's reach . . .
these mosquitoes

All Saints' Eve —
the Hitler moustache
on a boy's face

heavy rain
on the road to the farm
the toad and I

village uproar
two stones hit
the flying blackbird

sharpening
the secateurs . . .
spring rain

Hiroshima Day —
a group of chicks fleeing
from an eagle

clandestine landmines
they buried him
without his head

long winter night
walking back for more
Harriet Tubman

sweltering summer
uprooting the grass
on my wife’s grave

shadows falling
on shadows of slaves
picking cotton

eyes following
eyes of the night river
first runaway slave

the not-so-little lies
within your words —
heat-cracked soil

wind-blown seeds
the flow of life
without tethers

ancestral pull —
pieces of my village
clinging to my shoes

war drums
rivulets of rain hitting
corrugated roofs

silent tides
the sound of loneliness
washing over loneliness