Puppet Show

A limp little donkey
forgotten on top of a cupboard
in the gathering dust
until a day when the new toys
were too stiff to be the puppets
and his time was finally right
able to dance from the strings
to get a standing ovation

Rocking Horse

Dappled, grey and white
Sad not to have found a home
between the automatic race cars
the toy soldiers and the soft teddy bears
waiting for a child
to find rocking joy

Child Room

A story begins in a nursery

a dim presence in the dark

not just a trick of light

refractions from a skylight

a shuttered window, or a row of mirrors

it was another recognition

an overlap of history and intuition

of perception and presence

a mother beyond her hearing

only in the next room

did not hear her cries

The Mermaid Who Couldn't Swim

you were so scared for Melina

who had sea drops and scales

and no hopes on the horizon

with a fin tail and salty tears

you asked why a mermaid

should be taught how to swim

and why the little boy

from the fishing village

drew pictures in the sand

and helped her find

a kingdom under the sea.

Sleeping Twins

clasped lids, the dream boxes

open with soft angel wings

glass cabinets

infinite possibilities

flutter on the shoulder

whispering dreams

gentle wings quiver

through pairs of ears like pink shells

into orbits of fantasy where

lightning speed imaginations whirring

wheels of ice creams, swings, sugar

all things bright and white

the tiny wings are swirling, guiding sleep

now they turn back

floating, slipping onto the past

the box snaps shut

as magic childhood dust gathers over

sleeping heads.

Tribute

I am the shadow at your feet

with fear and photos

somersaults and screams

and torn up dreams

dragging you, as you look down

you see only the dark reflection of yourself

I am just an invisible space

between history and memory.

Africa is tired, a deserted house

insomnia plagues endless nights

and liberation wars

strewn with brittle bundles of bones

but, for us, it is a country of silkworms

Sunday nights, guitar lessons

tennis clubs, sticker albums

small, not beautiful

bleak and beloved.

lovely light bright light shines on

fists and frowns inside beds

pillows swallow peaceful breaths

casting dreams, of demons

trolls, ballerinas prancing

the perfectly positioned sheets

and polished school shoes

for tomorrow

then there are nightmares

throwing voices of anger

scaring the darkness

surviving, bleeding between us

in the silence

tired terror screams from memory

painful angels

fluffy and furry

fall on splintering

sharp cornered nightly raids.

Greece (2)

It was five o’clock

suspended time of day in heat and dark

five o’clock

a bedroom full of peace

 pictures

stern ancestors

on the walls

five o’clock

a mother’s pride, with my tears on the pillow

it was quiet

and right

an inner resonance

combined breathing

you comforted

I cried

At five o’clock.

Farm

I had been strong

 in the throng of weddings

 the friendship circles

book clubs

great careers at attorney’s firms

 the too much sometimes

pulse of Johannesburg

 became too much

I got too nervous

to leave the flat

 lay shaking at night

too much of everything

hearing helicopters

thinking they were coming

To arrest me

 Illegal

 realms of paranoia

 too much

I didn’t know what it was

 mom came on a plane

 I shook until she opened the door

at the flat

we got into the rented car

took some clothes

 a few books

 even they, it seemed, had abandoned me

 bought Woolies food

 drove in the winter afternoon

to the farm

for me to get better

if that can be a phrase used

 describe someone

who had fallen into the abyss

when the centre line cracked open

I fell

 the dogs were there

on the farm

the smell of wood smoke

Saartjie made a fire every night

 I slowly starting to sleep at night

 walked to up near the mountain

behind the house

every afternoon

the five dogs, and me

 never understood faith

until I lost it

until I stood looking at the great Magalies mountain

which I had seen since I was born

 held the blood of ancestors

 Boer War battles

 I said to the mountain

I surrender

 put my trust in you

In the universe

 bring it on

 not frightened

anymore.

on my knees

Common Room Breakfast

A waiter in while jacket takes order

toast, eggs, coffee (too much)

for the two of us

alone as children among the advocates

taken on a tour after the suited bespectacled

serious men have gone back to work

with newspapers and briefcases

clearing throats, peppermints on their desks

stricken starched white collared

containing ‘headsofargument’

and sometimes, the black cloaks

for the courtrooms.

and stressfullife

Tennis Court

Lost leaping
From a moss crawling wall
And you, so small
landing on the dilapidation of asphalt
The bulbous knees are almost broken
On a summer night in Westcliff
Jasmine and gables
Completely incongruent
With the cry for hope
And rescue

Triangle

It may seem strong
Pinnacle rising to a point
But it cannot move
Like a wheel
Or stand like a square
The pyramids are deceptive

It can be just sharp shifted points
All three pointed and edged
And the betrayal of the most unlikely
Possible crumbling from the corner
Unjust, inconclusive
The fortress of bricks
May be better to reach
A star lined sky

Which Witch Tower

A path leading to a turret
Overlooking the ocean
Before the spiral staircase,
Private, Keep out
Alone, no one can see our spells
Only the eyes of imagined, quiet friends
We practice at a cauldron in a silent room
With work to do
Keeping the strict adult world out
The pages turn and disappear
As the room becomes the world

Moon Butterflies

If you should ask me
In that smart little voice
Never ending with questions
I would say yes
If you paid enough attention to the details
There are butterflies
Circling the moon

Practical Magic

You and I
a synthetic combination,
between the pen and the drill
unlikely, but two strong blonde girls
with butterflies wings and electrical cables
fluttering between the toolbox and the mirror.

The Busy Dragon

perched on a cliff face of another world
lighting fires, burning houses
scaring flocks of sheep
the softest possible nest egg
for the smallest baby dragon

Magic Mountain

There is a spell
Stuck to you
like fragrance glue
there is a constant rainbow
and smoldering sun
eyes wide
in the golden afternoon
bewitched

Schlesien

Where the sky is stretched to capacity
Possible to be kings of a universe
The stars move closer
A morning brings a planet, circling, nearer
Alien, poisonous in the endless wind
Turning back to a the safety of a small room
Wooden beds, and Buttermilk Rusks
Staying as kings of our games and books, contained.

Change

A clear vase of yellow flowers
reflected in the mirror
a change in the weather
lightens the beating heart

Tugela Road Winter

Stockings pulled off after school
Winter of the Highveld,
Brittle grass
We swing from the jungle gym bars
Metal smells stay on our hands
And she waters the dismal lawn

Emergency

Somewhere there is a corner of history
Which is unheard
Silent, dusty, dark
Few may have gathered there
In desperate whispers of the emergency room
The routine we came to know
Where we they?
With their familial phrases
Their newly polished terms of endearment
Did they see you
Did they hold your hand?
Did they try
And fail?


The loss is mine, alone
Here in the long forgotten
Terrifying
Corner of history.

Trump Card

When it was just enough

To be us

The wiring inside worked

Anything was possible

It made sense to see

Our reflection in the mirror

And then she came quietly

A master player

The ace of spades

Stolen in the night

And my hardwiring collapsed

Broken, burnt, a unique theft

There is no place left for us

A mess of lost thought remains

Linger

The smell of the doll clothes suitcase
stays on the imagination
a marker of a magical time
a stream, a dream
a forest in winter
and Rice Crispies

Searchlight

She is searching

Looking through storage

The marine striped shirt, a fabric of before

The photograph box

A pancake mixing bowl

Records of birth and death

The scarves

Looking for a smile, a face that seems recognized

The pain has dusted everything

Struggling

To find the little girl

Arrival

The yellow gate
of the lawless driving energy
the blood of my birthplace
the first stonewall where I played
and stayed
the place built by my father and mother
inexplicable, I cannot go back
it has been created, the woodsmoke and cattle
I belong, the mould will not be broken
closing the yellow gate, pray
I am going to try to stay

Recovery (2)

This time
a long wait
a spefic date
longing to meet her
the numbing needle in my back
professional hands
small talk
and a daughter
a moment, a cry
my temperature is dropping
heart racing
rummaging inside
seeing her, of course, that face is her
and I am wheeled away into recovery
shaking teeth chattering
blankets and a heater for her, they say
she's too cold
trying to get out to see her

Recovery

For me there were no pills or white beds
but you took me, in depression
at the height of discretion
to the farm in winter
the fire every night
the days of belonging
and remembering
walking
lavender amounts
the calm breath and strength of the short days
stars, us small under cold nights
under the never changing
watchful eye
of my mountain

The Toy Ring

A doll, a mouse

Holding hands with fairy and Strawberry Shortcake

Gloating

Protected by a binding light

Behind the poplar forest

Farm house near enough to see

A circle of trust, dependent on time

Golden chambers

And  childhood no time to waste alliance.

Pan American

The Pan American Motel

Is where we started

The rush of traffic and first McDonald’s cheesebruger

Later

Alone, a slowly collapsing heap

In the corner of hotel rooms

Overtired from life

Knowing that if you crossed Queens Boulevard

There would be a promise, and a new life.

Transatlantic

In a discarded hand bag, the lip balm from Target

And one smell, here at the bleak coast town

Ghost town

Shoots an electrical current through my bloodstream

I am in Amherst in high summer

The sticky long days and trees, so many trees

Green shaded by a different light

The house with that unique smell , American clean carpet

The shredded wheat, the big pharmacies full of strange surprises

Malls with perfumes upon perfumes

And you

A life, in charge

Goodbye is always on the horizon

When the bus arrives in the humid afternoon

Chest hugging my pride

Waving from the window.

Childhood Files

Hardwired across a bay

Into a farm room with bunk beds

Joined by a ladder

Filed so deep into the skin

That no knife or person can slice them away

Stand up, raise yourself

And come back.

Poppadoms

A family we created

Out of time and place

A culture in a playroom

With our rules and rights

Where a poppadom

Was a National Signature Dish

Crispy, strange

No longer relevant.

Choice

Wandering in the night

When the children are sleeping

Easy breathing

Wondering

In the night

What happened in that moment

Between sunset and morning

The dream had to fold

The pillow stories sister told

The choice was someone else

Standing in the dark

The breath of the my children

Are what cannot let me drown .

Mielies

Broken in half
One yellow studded cob
Shared, crunched
Sisters' mellow delight on the stoep
History repeated

Displaced

Waking up laughing
at your joke
scratching the mosquito bite
on your arm
the taste of peanut butter
from your sanwiches
the glimmer of a lagoon
you walked across
separately as us

Travel Agent

Planning a trip
for us and our pets
exchanging beads and boiled sweets
for a ticket
to a place of turnaround chaos
where seahorses walk
where Care Bears and Cabbage Patch dolls hug back
where no child ever feels carsick or confused
once we arrive, we are happy refugees there
impermanently.

Photograph

Perhaps it looks like
Just two sisters
Take a magnifying glass
The one wants all her sums done
Perfectly, or not at all
The other is controlling
Demanding attention
Not alike
But they have similar escapes
Hot chocolate, Barbie games
There was an invisible, unbreakable chain
When it broke no one could tell
But it felt like the moon shot out of orbit
Away from the earth
Drifting, forgotten in space.