April Poetry Month Poor Me


Your white cane tapped the pavement

When I stomped my foot on the platform

Cursing the TTC and vintage clocks

Which are always five minutes behind time

You must have heard me when I cried

Poor me I’m having a bad day

Your guide dog counted its steps gingerly

Down the melting pot known

As Yonge and Bloor

Using my elbow like a sickle

I carved a path for myself

Through the thick maze of

Urban zombies called human beings

Who moan poor me every time

Their plastic card beeps ‘overdrawn’

Your motorized limousine

Hummed past my legs

Just when I cursed the mechanic

And unionized garage workers

For charging by the hour

To custom make my headlights

Poor me I wailed

How will I get to the cottage?

©Nonqaba waka Msimang

From Maple Syrup, a collection of poems


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