EFFERVESCENCE

They were not allowed to speak
in their mothers’ wombs; and
the syringes boiled their genes.
They hoarded instincts,
Pressed bloodlines

So crude

that they relieved past prime:
begot other brood and liberally
offered the etiquette- resilience,
serenity in the land of their people where
colour mattered least and

merit hallowed their unions, in purity, on The Continent.

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ATTA GIRL: TASTE

You will speak of troubled words, enter
the Corridors of the Learned but
your body belongs to me,
your Man-
the only reason your
papers will endure my reigns; and

when your honour meets my desires, you will
bow lesser, cringe a little because you ought to.

When you query this, one bit,
like a pea in a pod,
like a puppy on a bone,
like a corpse in a grave- you will
surely fail. Unless,

you tang the hood of honour
as you must, being woman, unfettered.

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Poems © Atuhairwe Agrace Mugizi
Image: Isaac Araguim via Flickr (cropped)