On the train to New York from Albany
when silver lining hits the lake.
Outlining your back forcing me to remember the last touch.
When I washed your back, your feet swollen.
You told me that you suffered from short breathe,
sometimes felt cold at times over heated.
I wanted to jump in that painted white bathtub
now replaced with a shower.
I asked you to replace me inside in your womb,
your thighs warm kind like turned me on.
Tell me how you feel as I stroke your figure,
your stomach swells.
Am I afraid that soon you’ll miscarry me.
I’m scared honestly do not wish to lose you.
Last night I slept in an old creaking bed
desperate for you in my dreams.
Why won’t you come,
come and be with me if not come for me.
My life has never been the same since
the night you left me
4 years and 8 days
marks exactly the period
we left you boxed under that grave
at 17th Umlazi cemetery.
I still love you mama
© Zanele Muholi