I counted his ribs,
One… two… three… Oh!.. I can’t!
Scarcely scattered yellowish hair,
Staring and tired sunken eyes,
Is there something to eat?
They seem to ask.
Wiry limbs.
Never ending growling ‘kwarshiorkored’ stomach,
Co-ordinate with the exhausted brain,
To imagine a lump of ugali in the empty air…
Picha na paybill no.
You remind me of the poems in highschool… .