Colonial Ghosts

A Photo Series

By Shameelah Khan

She said that everyone in that room
-will kill each other,
An exhibition:
Entitled: Death
She said there was a madness
An un-rest
They live underneath the
wooden-pressed floors
And high-textured ceilings
People pay good money
For trauma-
We don’t know
-what lived there before
Crawled into our skin
At night
Taking shape
Breathing colonies
Who owns the state?
National flags
Under beds
She said
-that people have died there
That she hears the slaves
At night
And weeps
For the ones
Who hold her name
In their hands
Between-their-chains-
A museum of
Colonial-ghosts
The devil- himself
Smokes a cigar,