The woman whose voice
Would usually usher me
Out of the lift into my single bed
On the 3rd floor
.Will be dead by now
,And for a year or two
Her voice will be looping itself still around
The eternal ups and downs
.Of this six-floor social building
The woman whose entire being was already frozen
,In the dots of 1s and 0s
Of Nows and No-wheres
Of Heres and Nots
,Will be long-over-sighted in the lists of dinner parties
,Long excluded from the gossips on the tables
From the moans half-heard from the half-lit stairwell
She will not be pleased
Until some hardened archaeologist digs
Her CDRom or mp3 file from the wreckages
Letting her voice boom from the miasma
Repeating endlessly, floor by floor, her now
Insignificant prophecies.
———
Hafiz Kheir : Was born 1968 in Khartoum Sudan and moved to the UK in 1992. He is a writer translator and a filmmaker a graduate of the Film & Television School at The London Institute (June 2000). He studied drama and theatre from 1982 to 1986 at the Youth Palace Omdurman Sudan.
