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exposure

Angifi Dladla

i heard the back door open.
like a wheelbarrow,
i raised my head
and leaned on my elbows.

someone was inside …
the voodoo and the electronic
securities must be in deep sleep
with dogs and neighbourhood watch!

feet and hands paddled,
towing the long body
right into our bedroom
three metres above floor level.

my stepfather? no, it can’t be …!
he never knew where i was,
and never cared even before
he died to leave me in peace.

hovering silently in front of the wardrobe
like an alien craft, he turned
his grey head the way a fowl does:
“please, maboi,” he cried,

tears drowning that hairy face,
“forgive me, forgive me maboi.”
never had I wronged this man
nor held him grudges.

seemed he caught my thoughts
as he thanked me, and
glided out backwards
like an ocean creature, relieved.

i shivered and rolled myself
with my snoring wife.
when i told her in the morning,
she gawked at me and chuckled:

“poets are dreamers …”





LitNet: 25 April 2006

Click here to read more poetry by Angifi Dladla

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