Sep 13, 2009 Posted by Katherine De Lorraine

Axe Murderer

(Here is an unpublished poem from collection of monologues in progress.) They cut off my long hair, but I don’t care. I don’t need it any more. See, being in this cell has made me smarter. I’m better off here; it’s a damn, crazy world out there. Anyhow, I’ve learned how to play their games—just act insane. “It’s easy to fool fools,” my grandmother always said. But I don’t mean you,... read more

Sep 13, 2009 Posted by Katherine De Lorraine

Market Street Blues

On a bench in front of the theater, he plays harmonica, tin cup wedged between his knees, feet tapping the rapid beat. When he smiles with his eyes, I follow deep lines in his dark face, a maze that leads to some ancient secret. Beside him a blonde man in jeans joins in, trumpet crooning. Soon blues writhes its way through the coffee shop door, circles the floor, sniffing like a coon dog before it decides... read more

Sep 13, 2009 Posted by Katherine De Lorraine

Crow Matinee

A lone crow squawked and cawed so much he caught my after lunch inattention while he arrowed to the ground, swiped an empty ice cream cone carrying it high into a bare tree. As though he held a microphone, his ruckus grew until another crow appeared The caucus balanced their empty cup on a limb, examined it as though it were a cornucopia passing it back and forth between them. So much like politicians in... read more

Sep 13, 2009 Posted by Katherine De Lorraine

Friday Crash for Grace Simpson

I yank off my face, hang it on the doorknob, turn the lock and stop the clock. End of a wicked week that feels like a hangover I don’t deserve, caught like a summer cold. I find myself leaning, almost falling off the chair. I try to sit up straight, but my head is heavy, my brain sliding. I look back at the face for any sign of change. It sags, pleated like a hand fan, mouth agape, ready to... read more

Sep 13, 2009 Posted by Katherine De Lorraine

Mr. Mudzingwa’s Death

Even before the drumming woke me at midnight, I knew that my father-in-law would be dying. I saw it in a dream two days ago but kept it to myself. I went to the fields to gather musosawafa leaves for everyone to wash their hands and faces after the funeral. You see, I have strange powers I must hide because a woman cannot know things like the n’anga. Elders would say I am a witch and drive me into the... read more