The Paper Palace

We made a place to stay safe
protected, where we could draw on the walls
change the rooms every day
little did I know
that the walls were penetrable
that she could strike a match
and light a fire
under our empire

Girlhood

Standing at the side
Wearing summer dresses even in winter
With blankets as your long hair
Hopping, dancing, desperate to belong
Pure belief in the Easter Bunny
Too shy to go to the bathroom
I look at you
And my heart peels open like an onion
The love beat open, raw and exposed.

Flower Pot Homes

The sky is lead
And I am looking for shelter
For my small, celluloid dolls
With their orange and strawberry hair
and matching handbags
They must hide in the flower pots
Huddles between the hydrangeas
As the big raindrops
Begin to fall

Ward 3

Stop
PIease stop
It should be our world
Leave the channels of this
Our playroom has walls
Come back
The cereal we made
It's real
The Aromat on the carpet
That  is real
Tapes playing in the bedroom
Rewind the record
Come back

Takeaway

Away
from this place
You are bursting from the meal
And the beds and the nurses
Empty help
Asking me
To take you
To where mom and Piet fought
To buying rusks in Humansdorp
To the coffee with Cremora
To the Barbies at the farm
Taking us away.

One Year Ago

The light becomes older
Towards the dusk
The cold is creeping
The swing is ready, two seats waiting
We are suspended on the farm
Not knowing how soon
The end is near.

Nights Awake

Brave coughing
Against the blue wallpaper
In the owl hour
The red syrup
Blurred coaxing,
The hours
Between reality and dream
When only chest sore babies
Are awake

Front Line

A troop
An ambush
The horses stand
Our ground
Madness,
But this is ours
The small piece of entitlement
With a fireplace
And a name

The Door

It takes a long time to find
A proper key to open
It cannot be untouched
We tended the room inside
A planet of memories we watered
And you are asking to leave
You have an easy ride
a ticket, a path
crossed, accomplished
Without even looking
Perhaps you never wonder
What it may look like
But magic has a way of surviving
Even through suffering
Close your eyes
It's there,
New caretakers
Strong as before.

Resting

Your whole face
Says it is too alive
To fall into the cave of whispers
the nudges and the murmurs
The weary head
Cannot say farewell to the sky
You doubt that you are safe
But there is a moon, and our arms
Rest your head
Dream the lands you seek,
See your sleeping horizon.

Golden Worlds

I cannot give you
the secrets of the world
Or shield you
From the arrows of school boys
But you are such a gift of essence
So proper and vulnerable
What I can do
Is turn the glass to gold
Perhaps give you the entrance
To a Ring in a stream
A wizard
Your Father Christmas
Journey, to fireworks and Frodo
My complicated little gem
And bring you home

Galaxy Gazing

Lying on sleeping bags
My mother shows us
The night blanket of universes
In the desert
Flawless and continued forever
We see the seven sisters
And other thousands of pin prick lights

The Duckpond

Icy winter morning
The air thick with woodsmoke
And frost
We wake up on the farm
More adventure waiting outside
Than in the small house
Scarves, solid breath
The duckpond calls us
With secrets and plans
Parents and friends forgotten
Even the cold is on hold
I am a free goat herder
Doing cartwheels in my mind
Until the sun sets quickly
The ducks fold their wings
We rub our hands numb
ready for baths.

Laughing

Almost always moving
Little creatures
Pulled from sleep
You make me stumble
Your laughs
One like a Christmas bell
The other from the depth of a belly
Give me the rush
Of a thousand roller coasters.

Battleships

For someone so young
There were too many fronts to cross
And you alone,
were shipped from one expert
to the next
Transported like a toxin
Heads turning away
My head shifting,
Loyalties left
Where were the places where you rested?
The fleets came
You fought, you fled
You tried
And then you launched your own ship
Into the west
Sailed away
Leaving the fires
I sometimes watch that horizon
But it's too far away to see
Walking away with a last glance
Closed
Broken, begging
Sorry.

Calling

There are too many people between us
 From the plane you see bright lights and fiction
And crossed phone lines,
Bubbles of fear, corrosion
I try to look happy
I walk by this ocean in the evening
And I call you
Because there is really only water
Streams of salt clear passages
Holding our hearts
underneath

Rainy Day

Stockings and brown shoes
School burdens
Discarded by the door
Dizzy relief in the playroom
Sitting on the floor
Spilling crumbs of sandwiches
Making avenues
Of fairytale dominoes
Hours tick tock away
Raining hypnotic comfort streams
Matching Snow Whites and Frog Princes
In beautiful certainty.

Christmas Eve

The roads are frozen
A mystical serenity in this country of yours
the trees bare against the short days
And on the holy night
We drive to the Chinese restaurant
Dark, panda lanterns
Incongruously empty on this day of feasts
We order cocktails,
This is better
Than pretty tables full of turkeys
Our lonely Christmas in the snow
Just like it always has been

You and Me

On the stone bench
at the bottom of the night garden
just you and me
and possibly
a shooting star

Passport

If I had a passport

I would go back to that world

Where there was sense

And where we played

The map was so clear

But all I can do

Is send a postcard

Air mail

With a picture of a face

And hope the birds

Carry it over the sea.

Carrot Soup

Thursday evenings
Lettie chops carrots, onions, potatoes
skins pile on the table
kitchen steam filled and real
comfort from the the icy hours
of Highveld hockey practice
balancing bowls on adolescent knees
watching soap operas
for that night
I am homegrown, homemade
happy

Carrying Home

Like perfume on my very transparent skin
I have absorbed so much of you
more than you can see
the way you planted trees
and read of magic
and reached further
than a ship could have carried me
too fast, as the rooms and the wooden floors
are now in the shadow world
only the packages
I can give my children
of calling, the weeping
the story teller
fears pass
the Cat Called Friday
transported, through the skin
again

Rock Houses

There are moments
of a flash of remembrance
like the walks
with him
to the sea
he sits on the rock, routine
we make a house
the long rock is the dining room,
the waves break too close
and the rock pool is the kitchen
very slowly, scared of tripping
leaning into the water
too pick a shell
for his supper
and he stares at the horizon
eating the supper
at the rock house
before returning home

us

we feel the same flutters and attacks
we read our thoughts like braille
we see the quarrels and quirks and smells
of everyone
we are a self contained world
even when I sit on the wooden bench
in the corridor
muted
waiting
suffocating on your air
drowning in our air

Lighting the Sky

There was a man
with long narrow fingers
who crouched by a fire
sinking his hands
into the glowing ashes
he pulled them out
and stretched an arm
across the horizon
leaving behind
a tail of shining lights

Road to Schlesien

the morning is excitement
this is home
delight, and intense light
loaded on the car
half way stop, the kingdom breathes heat
stretch out sweat
feel alive again
ham and cheese under clingfilm
signature
created for this road
this is home

My Riverbed

The tyres kick up sand
in the heat
where water once flowed
now littered with camelthorns
bones of birds
we wait for rain
stand on the big rocks
as princesses
holding rain dance recipes

Red Boots Gang

huddled under the oak tree
with Fanta and purpose
for a meeting
she is in charge, wearing red wellingtons
she knights us
with names like Morning Star
and baby Hannibal
I am still nameless
an honorary member from yesterday
when I stole the ballet girls' snackers
and a soccer ball
the dirt still not settled
in the schoolgirl pride playground

the Flower Festival

My sister and I
pick out camelthorns
collect stones and winter grass
for the flower festival
we crouch
biting bottom lips
in fierce concentration
arranging dead dry twigs
into twists and turns
for the 'indigenous' category.

Lemon People

Slowly
we make small incisions
surgeons in the garden
sticky rusty wires
into the lemons

Young toy designers
carving chidlren
in a sweet acidic spray
a small price to pay
for wiry arms and legs
and lemon people
being born.

Seeker

A trick of light
On the dust
Something lingers
Unavailable on earth

Games

Before

It was  us who changed the games

United

Herbivores became hunters

Chess became friendly families

Children fought real battles

Snakes climbed up the ladders

And all the time

Locked in a tightness

Frankness

And left alone

Now

You are playing new games

And I am laughed at, alone

Underestimated

Walking away

Lying below the lies

Erasing the lines

Stronger than before

Watching my chess pawns

Move the battle closer,

On more solitary terms.

Evacuation

There is a place

Where only I have been

The old city

Where the wisdom of tradition lies

And freedom

From Africa, and the shadowed label I lived under

Where I ran to, from the stifling gut of the plane

The room of Richmond place

No nervous homecomings

Or raids

Just my room

And the peace of ice

Takeaway coffees

Real Christmas choirs

More my home than mine had been

A space in that place

To become.

Playing in the Blue Bedroom

The fynbos air drifts into the house

Day and night

The new doll house

On the tiled floor

Comes fully furnished

Classic Victorian

We turn it around

To be our little house on the prairie

I read ahead from the book chapters

And when we know what’s next

We play the Pa leading the horses to water

And the girls baking bread

In the homestead.

Spider Webs

seriously concentrating
we are binding the house
room by room
with thread from mom's sewing box
webs spun by school girl friends

Tell Me

Tell me where to find you

Beyond the eyes that have seen horror

The legs that can barely walk

Tell me where to fetch you, in the night

Beyond the window of the place where they are keeping you

Come back to our footpath

Take my hand,

I have been scared to visit

To see you in that place with the vacant young women

The brokenness,

Everyone wearing slippers

But if you let me

I will break you out

Give me a sign

And we’ll go back together

To our footpath.

Morning

Blue checked uniforms times two
shiny shoes that hurt ankles
cereals bowls balanced on our laps
we watch our little world
of the two small magicians
their toadstool house
casting spells all day
the spell is broken
as we take our dread in suitcases
to the car

Wexford Avenue Sundays

Round and round the tennis court

On our bikes, dogs chasing us

In old tracksuits

Winter light on the broken walls

Practicing piano while you sing

Followed by lamb and potatoes

Back to the playroom

Where half hearted hearts play

with the dolls houses

Families we created

All the time

Anticipating homework, after Startrek

Trying to decide which one of us is more nervous

More likely not to do the Maths unless it’s perfect

We abandon the effort, eat cookies

And watch the MNET movie.

Handstands

Afternoon clouds are building

Highveld thunderstorm coming

We are doing handstand competitions

One judge on the stoep

Ready, steady go

Three humble contestants

Trying, falling

One does a longer balancing act

And wins, victory for a shouting moment

Then falling, grazing a chin on the static lawn

Listening for the birdcall

That tells the children

Go inside

Walk away, quickly

Lightning will strike

Fairies Behind the Furniture

Because of you

I am rediscovering

The world I have been living in

I see crystal jewels in a cereal box

And villages and maps on the carpet

I the flutter of fairies and princesses

Behind the chairs and tables

I see how every moment is quickly over

And the next one begins

I learn that being only who you are

Is just enough

To become a queen or butterfly

Anytime.

Waking

Your morning face

Creased with sleep

Eyes still in another world

First smile of the day

Breaks the silence.

Pearl in the Glass Globe

Far in past now

 Real

Upstairs

Up the carpeted staircase

The glass

With bubbles

An oyster

Protecting a pearl

Long fingered wisdom

Minds floating free

Stories from under the sea

Quietly whispered

In my toweling Dress

I become the Storyteller

Gateway to the magic

And dreaming

Grey, my pearl in glass

A shadow  

The deep secrets

of my small, trapped piece of the sea.

Every Day

I forget you

I forget the winter mornings in the playroom

I forget the tractor tyres that became spaceships

I forget the house of rocks by the sea

I forget you

Every day

I no longer see you

I no longer see the cuts and swollen face

I no longer see the horror of your eyes

I no longer see the vacant drip by your bed

I no longer see you

Every day

I hold you

I hold your desperate dreams and screams

I hold our walks and trusted conversations

I hold you bony shoulders that held too much

I hold your heart

Every day

I cannot

Forget you.

Ladder to the Moon

The gnome asked the old fairy

How he could repay her kindness

And she replied

That she wanted

A slice of the moon

For herself

I am lost in thought

In the pages

Watching th red pointed hats

the short bellied men

Make a ladder

To reach the moon

All the creatures start to climb

To reach the moon

I wait

Holding my breath

Anticipating

A slice of the moon

The sky is too large

The moon is too high

And the gnome, the fairy

All the animals

Climb down to the ground

Only close enough

To watch.