Untitled Poem by Stella Sisanda Qishi

She queues outside a community hall
With a two-month old hanging loosely on her back,
the worn out towel tied carelessly;
A three-year old on the left
And a five-year old on the right
Their tawdry clothes sticky with mucous
their empty stomachs roaring at the sight of sizzling boerewors
They constantly slap the air, misjudging the fly's flight
while the 18-year old mother flips her silky hair back
saturated with expensive gels
combed to reach shoulder length
and her heels keeping dust at bay
the budget has long been in place;
the stilletos, designer jeans a perfume and a fresh hairdo
the rest goes to booze
the long nights jamming with like-minded souls
'What about the kids? ' we wonder
well, they'll just have to torment their neighbours
with weeping like they did the previous month
being brought up by the street
soon they'll learn how easy it is
to point a gun for a slilce of bread