Love in the Plural by Mukula Kadima-Nzuji

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neither this sobbing ocean

in the moon of your swelling voice

nor the milky vapour

on the window of my waking

nor this flood of men

in the margin of my shadow

which yearns for a safe shelter

nor the slipstreams on camelback

in the desert of my solitude

nor the spindrift nor the seaweeds

pillows for my storm-filled head

are able to decipher

where I inspect myself in vain

the reverse side of mirrors.