“Crisp Fingers” by Kimberly Sithebe

There are not enough love letters to my mother
I wasted them all on Oya
Who lay under me and forgot herself
As the lord of her brothers
Who would have sang a song
Had she written one
We became lovers in this way
Sudden secrets to even ourselves
So I am here
Because I have not yet found another
Who has carried the entire naked weight of me
In arms strengthened by darkness
Without words
But ceaseless comfort