Abigail George: I never promised you gardenias
Winter studies of the African Renaissance at the diving board (for Virgil, the poet) You came upon me like a graceful neck. The deception of marked winter studies. The fabric of the African...
View ArticleAbigail George: Diary of an Invasion
The future of seawater towards immortality, dust singing of sick birds. My sister was the former, and I, the latter. The night air clandestine and spiritual. Your country, in faraway Johannesburg, is a...
View ArticleAbigail George | Inspiration
Mangaliso Buzani’s poetry inspired this i I’m figuring out Sadness ii My fingers pull The tough skins off The frozen chicken pieces ———– Alan Finlay’s poetry inspired this The door has wings Swings...
View ArticleAbigail George | The Road to Emotional Healing
What a terrible life I lead, she thought to herself. I live in a world where there is no one to come home to, no one to comfort me, to speak nothing of the aberrations of my soul. What is there for me...
View ArticleAbigail George | Debris from Apartheid
Debris from Apartheid The man turns into a valley I cannot establish or maintain. My mother does yoga. I stare at her poses drinking her in with my coffee. She is as lovely as roses. She is as...
View ArticleAbigail George | The selected letters of a poet
The selected letters of a poet The hurt has turned into a wound. Please, the woman says to the man, the village elder, stop hurting me. He pours salt into the wound and rubs it in. The woman weeps and...
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