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Home » Poetry » Issue 5 » Believe this at your own peril

Believe this at your own peril

one day I told someone that I once had a beer with Marechera,
but he said I was a bloody liar:
why the bloody hell would Marechera have a beer with an idiot?

I have Marechera’s typewritten manuscript,
I informed Rose after a long bout of lovemaking.
found it in my office while packing my stuff
after being fired from the university for writing useless poetry
at a time when the country had other visions.
but she found it hard to believe
and even intimated that I was using a dead genius
to build a seductive image of a tortured artist.
when, for effect, I boasted that The Black Insider
happened in my former office,
she rolled off the squeaky spring bed
and headed for the whirring refrigerator to retrieve a bottle
of cheap wine.

one day a young man will say his grandmother
is the Rose that unlocked the padlock to poetry,
but exasperated academics will tell him to shut the fuck up
and stop hallucinating about Chidora and his grandmother,
for what would Chidora be doing with the grandmother
of such a young man?