TCK Town

http://tcktown.com

“TCK TOWN is a digital publication which exemplifies what our tribe does best – we reach out, find each other and talk about the stories that have made us who we are.ย ย I hope TCK Town will become one place in this big, wide world where fellow TCKs can find a sympathetic ear when they visit, a place to further expand brains already itchy for extra knowledge and a destination that’s not limited by long flights, awkward transits or that time difference calculation before you decide to call in.”

Echo

bright splashes of sound and smell laugh 
in my face as I drag 
a finger through the dusty residue of last night’s 
dreams
thoughts reaching eagerly for the edge of our windowsill 

voices ring through my sister’s room and 
small feet
chase the goats of Rue 3
I stick out my tongue because the air 
is warm and salty and I
am glad to be alive

my feet find their way to the kitchen 
and I smile up at a dripping face
“here”
I wriggle my hips into the skirt held out for me 
stiff 
with the sun and wind of Harmattan

the trucks begin to arrive 
shouting hello to the watchman and we run 
bare feet slapping across the cement, skidding 
to a stop in the sudden sand
as I sneak a look behind me 
before ducking through the doors

whip the willow
is new for us but the music 
is already in our veins 
so we listen our way into the patterns on the floor
rhythm 
pulling the room in dizzy circles
lock elbows and spin faster
crooked 
grin
we could dance 
all night 

later
the roof is a breathless 
purple 
leaning out over the courtyard, the moon 
is nowhere to be found
quiet footsteps 
pad on the stairs 
I turn around and you point 
so we look up at the sky and 
pick a star to wish on 

… 

an alarm clock rings in the distance 
my eyes fly open 
groping for the mosquito net 
and I turn my face towards the window, but there’s a wall 
instead
confused snow 
drifting quietly 
to the ground outside 
a new window 
over there
I am lost and this must be 
Minnesota

by Kekelime

Eyeroll

we are done writing 
for this summer 
our words 
trickled out in cautious hope 
as she wove the squirrels into our story 
and he stood, refusing to let another person leave. 
I traced the interstate with two fingers 
in the misty glass, and 
again in the small oval that was my window 
three planes later 
I’m rolling down a mountain on my hands and 
knees 
a small red dot waits on my screen. 
sleep well, banana. 

by Kekelime

Lens

my memories, they are not of Ethiolo 
of small feet winding 
down a dusty path to a water-well worn 
with the chatter of women, girls I used to know 

I canโ€™t see the dirt, red against your ankles
hear the call of buckets to one another 
sloshing in the sway of hips
flip flops mingled in the early morning light

I remember knives flying 
tongues sliding 
across the smooth expanse of the language we shared
stretched through our fingers as peppers danced, green 
into your pan 

the screech of a wheelbarrow 
bare feet slapped 
across the bricks, padded
through the sand 

I remember 
sticky heat, and 
breeze through my hair
waves lapping 
against a shore that curves into the distance 
lost blue in a city sky 

by Kekelime