Birds 3

We brought the house down. It was indiscriminate destruction of all things in sight

There was no mercy, no restraint. It was just deliberate, eager demolition

And yet our shoulders held up our heads. Our legs supported our bodies

We combed all places in search of all things standing. All sweet things – all takeable liquid things

Steady and shaky legs danced to all melodies Ugandan, South African, Congolese… But still we dared the lake with all unsteadiness, soakiness of throats

By the way, we’ll not call ourselves drunks. We are just conquerors. Victors of the pen, writers.

At the Caine Prize Workshop. Celebrating the final full stop. Bidding Garuga goodbye.

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