Scrap away everything and we’re just lonely people
What thrumming ache wrecks him silly
Left a tiny budding root in my blood
This is what will bring me back to him
This is what will break my back
I was a lonely child, nothing to do with other people
Their proximity to me
Their singing, hands outstretched always
asking me to join in on the dancing
I helplessly missed my mother on her work days
I walked to my sister’s school during school days
Crossing roads like I knew left from right
When my parents found out about my excursions they locked the gate
When the loneliness raged I proved I could be a disappointing daughter
I climbed over the high steel door with its sharp spokes meant to keep me in
Today all the gates are locked
All my limbs are aching from climbing and never crossing to the other side
When I’m inside I’m shackled with shame for not finding a way out
When I get outside another gate erects itself sturdy, shut
I am thinking of him now, my love
Eating alone in his lonely house
Reading his lonely bible over his lonely paraffin lamp
His lonely eyes behind his lonely glasses
His lonely prayer before climbing onto his lonely bed
His lonely heart beating steadily even as he thinks
Of his dead, lonely in their graves
Even his grief is lonely
Loneliness is a mirror between us
on the other side of which I too court solitude
Writing sad poems instead of calling him
Pride choreographs our bodies into a familiar ache
The ache is a song neither one of us admits
knowing the dance to
Though we both tap our feet to its rhythm
Though we both know the steps
Phodiso Modirwa is a Motswana writer and poet with works appearing in adda Magazine, Guernica Magazine, Brittle Paper, Lolwe, and other literary magazines. Her chapbook, Speaking In Code, is published by Akashic Books as part of the New Generation African Poets Box Set. She is a 2024 International Writing Program (IWP) Writer in Residence.