Wednesday, 30 March 2011

My Business is to Poke My Nose Around

[Image courtesy of google:]

I make it my business
To know your business.

If you paint your house yellow,
Somehow I am entitled
To ask why your colours are loud
To silence our homes in some colour competition

When the aroma of fried beef
Wafts to the nostrils of my famished children
I wonder whatever happened to good neighbourliness

I hear your husband did not sire
That third son of yours:
His nose is as bulby as the Caretaker’s
Of course, I know these things
Heard them from the Househelp

I also know whether you slept on the right
Or left side of the bed
And exactly why you swallowed your
Sleeping pills yesternight
See, I should know these things

I don’t understand why you should be angry
When I ask you a simple question like
Who actually first proposed marriage to who
Because these things occupy my mind
And logically I should seek their answers

When I ask you where you bought that kitenge dress
And how many shillings it cost you
I expect a figure—fifteen thousand perhaps?—Not
Some whimpering of “mind your own business”
Of course you can tell it is my business

And do not give me that withering look
When I ask you whether there is a thing between
You and the gym instructor—
Some of these things I notice need intuition
They are not everyday wares sold in Muthurwa.

C) Lorot Salem 2011


Promising Poets Parking Lot said...


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Promising Poets Parking Lot said...

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Salem Lorot said...

@ Promising Poets Parking Lot, thank you so much. I am joining you in a moment.

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