Your tribe removes
the top third
of your womens little finger
when they are born

I do not believe in your spirits
In your fears of haunting

You stood in that carpark.
I would never have noticed you.
How long had you watched me?

How long had you watched me?
The girl in a black coat
smoking
by the third entrance

Your tribe removes
the top third
of your womens little finger
when they are born

You were out of your territory
Xhosa.

As I was out of mine.

I did not believe in your spirits
In your fears of haunting.

They will say I discriminate
by defining you by your tribe
but I did not know your name
Xhosa
And the only other word
I know for you
Is rapist.

Tallie Pascoe

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/xhosa/