POETRY

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it is time to mind our words
laying them as wet petals
on a rock
to dry as the wings of tomorrow 

I had a black mom

my white mom never knew

who daily wrapped me to her back

with scratchy wool blanket

and outsized pins

before starting her work

but really wove me into her Africa

with her sways and swoops

to funky Soweto* Mbaquanga* 

as she choreographed the erasure

of our daily colonial household mess

in Sisyphean tableau

"the maid", they called her, 

missing the magic she taught me in our entwined hours 

of termites and tokoloshes* 

and the many uses for Vicks*

and our shared secret of picking the days Fahfee numbers*

which were bound to the dreams of the Chinaman

in the Cadillac with tinted windows that picked up 

the bets every lunchtime

summoned by bell

to clear our dinner dishes 

she never looked at me or let on 

to giggling while teaching me my first Xhosa 

word.…for fart

followed swiftly by the phrase "'ll beat you!" 

in a manner that meant the whiteness of my little bum 

was no boundary to her

her silent obedience in uniform and apron,

never hinting at how we had earlier conspired 

in cooking half a sheep's head

in her tiny shack full of mystery in the back yard 

its eyeball leering at me  over her shoulder 

captive on her bent over back 

with a directness of  gaze 

she never gave my father 

when murmuring: "Yes, Master"

with her enveloping musky hugs 

that consoled and nurtured

She bound me to Africa

and I don't even know her last name

If I could only bring you
the taste of the the streets;
the carbon-ache of distance roiled around your mind
as shocking as first-breath,
the spicing of possibility in each yearning mile
a bandit at your thalamus
demanding its tribute of awe
in homage to the ruckus of freedom
that lives
out there
vibrant and sun-sliced

If I could bring you
the taste of the the streets,
would you slide into it
serenading the extraordinary
or would it rasp into you
a sharkskin shiv to your backpedaling sensibilities?

Could I bring you
to taste the streets,
stepping off the sanctuary of the kerb
into the whirling cosmos
of spiraling travelers
weaving maypoles with their tongues?

Could you be
the taste of the streets,
your breath the rising dust
of countless anty missions
thrumming exotically in your chest
your scent a pheromone siren-song
of destinations unreached
I would inhale
with a sigh
 

If you believe in widdershins,
full moon dance, and shifting skins,
I'll sing to you of umbral things
And allow the frogs to steer

If you are good with the rocky way,
tasks so big they take all day,
we'll walk together 'til we're grey
You, still, as 'my dear'

If you can hew to a path that's true,
take a licking and come back new,
don't give in to feeling blue,
then I'll have no fear

And if, by chance, you don't choose me
I'll be excited just to see
What you do with your sweet free..dom
From behind a tear, here..
 

Blue Heron croaks a raspy protest

at my kayak in his kingdom 

resenting the origami needed

to transform

his jumble of angles and humps

into a graceful dart

of smoke disappearing

into the thick sunrise air

As a child they told me of spectacle

parades I'd never see
circuses and freak shows and masquerades
to dazzle all the way
to the back of an open mouth
even in the retelling of it
the fireworks always there

Then I saw the insides of
a man's head on our lawn
one Christmas morning
saw them burning people with tires and hacking at the smoking remains
saw the fists up close with accompanying stars and darkness
blood running down my throat

And I had enough of spectacle

But it wouldn't stop
the years unspooling
in gunshots and pools of blood
the parade of tyrants
and daily news freak show
more real than I cared for

Throw words like atlatl darts
String words like garlands
Play words like bagpipes
Hack words like lianas
Whisper words like long partings
Slather words like cheap paint
Spit words like smokers' phlegm
Copy words like grave rubbings
Corral words like school field trips
Tally words like days until freedom
Hug words like grief pillows
Chant words like Songlines
Attend to words like a probationary employee
Mint words like peace medals
Save words like first-kiss memories
Vomit words like Tijuana tacos
Cosset words like colicky babies
Hold words like winning lottery tickets
Give words away like excessive tithing
Craft words like a castaways raft
Nuzzle words like newborns' scalps
Sniff words like puppy breath
Inhale words like whippits
Wield words like Wallace's broadsword
Yell words like cum-cries
Whimper words like the abandoned
Slur words like wet roads
Embrace words like tree trunks
Venerate words like capricious gods
Step through words like hoops of fire
Break words like Greek wedding plates
Scatter words like parade candy
Track words like pursuing Ghurka
Tout words like a debt-ridden pimp
Love words like a fat inheritance
and
Kill words, sometimes, like fat ticks

Like so many seeds of vague provenance
planted in hope and nurtured
with tender care and faith
in unseen, primal magic
the sprout is loved into existence
with daily
even hourly
checks of the soil
scanning for telltale cracks
where none were before
or a tiny bump
swelling with unknown promise
while conjecture riots
in the playground of anticipation

and sure enough
inevitably
in a moment of distraction
while tending some other needful task
it will emerge
without midwife or fanfare
a marvel
awaiting greeting
welcome
and tentative naming

a fact now
in the footsteps of a dream

there
emerged beside the sink
a new toothbrush
with all the promise
of a prizewinning
bloom

Home is where the glaciers
emptied their pockets
in offering to Ocean
for the gift of warmth

departing for valley homes
enlightend
chattering stream stories
of a pilgrimage of aeons
before wisping into legend

their votive mound an ancient altar
to things gathered
that need letting go 

Somewhere
the jacaranda blooms
forever holding my boy in
dappled purple thrall

velvet flower rain
on his face