Naked Streets Poem by Mogare Nyamoko

As I passed through streets,
Streets of Angels prosecuting,
Men salivated for my young body,
A body with erect mountains
And young hills neighboring the river between.
All in want of me,

Men peeping from the windows of their cars,
Some shouting shamelessly
''young whore''
And yet I walk like a bethrothed queen.

The women in the streets
Unable to look at me,
Hiding behind the stalls
Whispering to each other,
'The daughter of the night
Trying to steal our men'
Who would tell them
That am not a whore?

Afraid of the eyes like sand,
My skirt I pull down
I now agree with the whispering women
'A daughter of the night
Trying to steal their men'
Am not a whore
Who would tell them?

Men in cars
Sweets they offer
Thinking am one of them,
The whores.
Who would tell them am not a whore!

I wasn't like that,
The Townie, a Friend of mine
She explained
While holding my photo
Of how smart I would be with a miniskirt
A little penny I would make from men.
Am not a whore please,
Tell your men.

Am tired of walking
Tell your men I want to sit
Tell them to close their eyes.
My river between will be exposed,
No walls to hid it.
Please the whispering women,
Didn't you hear me?

Give me your lesso then,
I know your men are hyenas.
They no longer eat only at home,
Anywhere, everywhere
As long as the plate has food
Their spoon is ready to pluck into the plate
Am not a whore.