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Gedicht

Titus Moetsabi

WHISTLE NIGHT

WHISTLE NIGHT

WHISTLE NIGHT

Stands transfixed
Like a piece of wood
By the side, a hood.

Night fall creep
Like a caterpillar
Night émigrés colonising alleys.

Sleeping like a shot-gun
A whistle lies tucked away
On fat chest pocket.

Night fall creep
Like a stab in the back
As sudden grappling starts.

Echoes like cicada music
Call transfixed figures not to chicken out,
To soldiers come to rescue.

Guard lies bleed
Like a broken sewage pipe
No person or ambulance in sight.

Stay off whistle night
The broken promise laid off me
Like all vehicles without spare parts.
Titus  Moetsabi

Titus Moetsabi

(Zimbabwe, 1963)

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WHISTLE NIGHT

Stands transfixed
Like a piece of wood
By the side, a hood.

Night fall creep
Like a caterpillar
Night émigrés colonising alleys.

Sleeping like a shot-gun
A whistle lies tucked away
On fat chest pocket.

Night fall creep
Like a stab in the back
As sudden grappling starts.

Echoes like cicada music
Call transfixed figures not to chicken out,
To soldiers come to rescue.

Guard lies bleed
Like a broken sewage pipe
No person or ambulance in sight.

Stay off whistle night
The broken promise laid off me
Like all vehicles without spare parts.

WHISTLE NIGHT

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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