PART 1
Alien,
Unchosen, Un-deemed
Un-sensed, Un-promised.
Alien,
Untried, Denied.
Qualified Unqualified.
Alien,
The guitar strums mute whispers
Notes linger aimlessly
Floating along verandas of empty laboratories
Alien,
Bristles vow silence.
Grey confirmed scarlet
Silver lines dissolve into charcoal blue;
A kaleidoscopic mat indulges filled pews
Alien,
The hands of Engalabi frozen for all time,
No longer a master's piece.
Baksimba's legs glued together
At ease!
No longer a guest at the dance.
PART 2
2...5...6, 2...5...6...
It was the only number he could call. He had not the courage to type the final digits. The phone stayed trapped in his unrelenting, unmoving palm. His fist, clenched as hard as a rock. Was it that his call would not be answered? Was it that there would be silence at the other end of the line? Was the proprietor of the voice wronged or was it that she was indifferent? He could not remember. Gulp! A balled-up substance forcefully made its way down his throat. He picked up the courage to try again...
2...5...6, 2...5...6...
Hello...
