Anne Woodborne

the iron soil shimmers in the heat/ ystergrond sidder in die hitte
a waterladder to the stars / waterleer na die sterre
the diamonds shatter / diamante spat tepletter
the smell of the womb / die reuk van die baar
Mikki van Zyl

Back to the Womb

Arrow to the light,
streaming to the taut surface
of my writing dam.
I become lost in urban mazes
and beyond, where derelict cows
wander, ridged and ribbed,
the iron soil shimmers in the heat.
Ystergrond sidder in die hitte.

Heat shivers into blinding drops
of tears; the bereft weep
for the barren, iron soil.
Deepening sky closets itself into night.
Teardrops, falling, shifting, shape
a waterladder to the stars.
Waterleer na die sterre.

Stars, diamond- bright,
flash their brilliance,
morse-codes of stories,
more numerous than Scheherezade’s.
I am dizzy from story- telling
when the diamonds shatter.
Diamante spat tepletter.

Shattered, blinded by stars,
I wake in a throbbing red cave,
my arms and legs entwined
in a foetal dream; my heart
throbs in unison with mother,
alone in her fruitful belly,
in the smell of the womb.
Die reuk van die baar.



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