I have a chill in my womb.
I have a child in my wound.
Everything is massed up. The sea doesn’t blow.
The wind rivers the sea in the wrong direction.
How will I get along with this man wolfing me?
How will I get alone? He herd me.
It never bordered me before,
what I got as a regard.
We used the hardest language.
We cast threats. We’ll born in hell.
Some of us fall by the waistside
and some of us sore to the stars.
Ladan Osman
© Ladan Osman
Ett varmt tack till Ladan Osman, född i Somalia men bosatt och verksam i Chicago, för att vi fick publicera den här dikten. Den är hämtad ur The Kitchen-Dwellers Testimony (University of Nebraska Press), som förra året belönades med Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets. Hennes chapbook, Ordinary Heaven, finns med i Seven New Generation African Poets: A Chapbook boxed set.
”Good Literary Citizens: An Interview with Ladan Osman”
Ola Wihlke
BearBooks 