Alexander Murie
“Nightlights” and “Calling Him (A Praise of Loadshedding)”

Nightlights

In this country the night-
Light is kept
Outside, with the stars, moon
Humming. Some mould
On the bricks, on the old bird cage
Behind the hibiscus.

In this country the night-
Lights scream pale green,
Abusing the dark, adult
Fingers scrape at the keypad
Arm, disarm. Alarm,
Alarm.

In this country the night-
Lights sigh out history, pretend
Away the night, away the other
Side of the door, but sound—
Footsteps, a disturbed spade, the dogs across
The street. In this country

the sound

Precedes the light, a perverse
Lightning, after thunder. After all

In this country the night-
Lights do not wish
For this. In this country
Light would turn away, would know
what it is to close an eye. What it is
To be awake, without
Nervous hands holding them
At strangers, at this night-
Burned country.

Calling Him (A Praise of Loadshedding)

like a gasp
at the unremarkable
sunset, it falls out

of robots, empty
of authority, meetings
hitch, fridges

sweat their souls
onto the soft tiles sweetly
letting him

fall closer
in the gluten afternoon
when shadows empty

us of light’s burden,
I always call him my love
in times like these.

Alexander Murie is a poet and doctoral candidate based in Cape Town, where he writes, reads, and stays up too late.