I almost fell into the trap of a day that hated my hard-won sobriety.
I told him no, not because I’m a snob
But because my life was almost robbed once of its reality.
A relapse that dug up my corpse and crucified me
against the cold surface all vices I had crossed off,
leaving me prostrate in front of the same demon
my bathroom mirror had long since exorcized.
And my Friday passed uneventfully, thank God
Because Friday once thought it had power over me
A three-leaf clover of
hung-over,
near dead,
unloved.
Also by this poet:
Mbonisi Zikhali comes from Makokoba, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. He is a spoken-word artist, story-teller, youth mentor and grassroots community organizer. His stage name is Zomkhonto, which happens to be his bloodline’s totem. He is currently based in Canada.