Winter and a dream
The city street is neon cold
He flashes light through my window
On the wall it sits like a door
Opening and closing to a flurry of muffled voices
The laughter of children
I fall into a dream
Winter in the Transvaal
The ice cream kombi driving past
Playing the music of a merry-go-round
Over and over
The ice cream kombi driving past
Playing the music of a merry-go-round
The ice cream kombi is not passing me
I am passing it
Again and again
I do not stop
The ice cream kombi is not passing me
I am passing it
The conductor of the merry-go-round
Drives the ice cream kombi
Things that stay the night
Last night I laid a lump of fresh tobacco
in a furrowed leaf
of obsolete gazette
As the night prowled about like a thief
I let her fabricate a tale
to keep me company
She burned generously
in the sallow wrapping
until she was ash
I went to bed with her
The night before
I sat at a table garnished with fine wine
garlanded with luscious fruit
and a vibrance of deceit
Indulged in a delectable sham
Later
I ate a brown pear
broke her soft velvety flesh
stuck my tongue in her sweetness
until she soiled my mouth
with blandness
Afraid
I saw the whole universe once
in the back
of my grandmother’s shack
I never told anyone
I looked into my palm
and saw it
The riot
I saw it in the blood pooling in the hollow of my hand
I did not feel pain
I was afraid grandmother would thrash me
for bloodying her favourite kitchen knife