SOLITUDE 64 Poem by Fiston Mwanza Mujila

or nausea precedes essence
I've been pregnant for 17 years, 36 months and 2 days.
I make love with the sky. I'm expecting a brat from the sky. The child who'll come out of my belly or the river born from my guts, or the river-child spat out by my dastard body will return to fill my long, insomniac nights with its flesh... It'll answer to the name of Mzete ya mbila bazo kata ezo kola. Then I'll be able to boast (to any who care to listen) of being the father and mother of this muddled progeny, this centipede-progeny, this punctured-progeny - uselessly grotesque.