nampula
wakes at first light

she bundles brightly
and brooms the streets

breathing the blue sky
she walks her brother to school

half naked
she sits in the dirt screaming

she cements shards of glass
to the tops of walls

when rain turns the roads into rivers
she builds bridges out of boards

she carries charcoal
on the back of her bicycle

from the side of the road
she sells puppies from a basket

she balances her belongings
on her head

resting in the shade of a tree
she breastfeeds her newborn

at the checkpoint armed with an assault rifle
she asks for our passports

playing with her friends
she rolls old tires down dirt roads

she moves
through the brutal beauty of chaos

nampula
sleeps at last light