A relief supply ship for the bombed citizens of Iraq
called Sir Galahad
arrives tomorrow in the port of Basra.
Oh where is the beautiful lady
who will come out of the charred crowd
to lay her long hair along the shore
and wave the green scarf of welcome? “Photographing the Building is Forbidden Until the War is Over” 10.01.2012
There is a stain on the horizon.
It leaks into the world, covers
the linens, covers the faces
and turns this ocean, shuddering,
from its course. Fernão the Gardener Has Premonitions 10.01.2012
On occasion, the animals
curl into themselves, their skins,
and we—not knowing why—
put our faces to the wind
and sniff. The Secret Lives of Maps 10.01.2012
Do not say “I hear the laughter of birds
above our heads.” Say, it is the laughter
of women who empty their washbasins
on the steps of very high houses
whose walls, they say,
can never be cleaned. A Message Comes In 10.01.2012
Around the World in Eighty Days: The India Section
It was important to have a conversation with
Pandit Nehru in Allahabad
After the visitors left the fine house
We sat down for tea
Overlooking the confluence of the sacred rivers
I marveled at the variety of trees Allahabad 10.01.2012
Don’t trust any harbour. Already
those reflections that match each boat
turn restless, yearn to fracture:
each wave beyond the quay dishevels.
What the Sea Brings 10.01.2012
Autumn works away like a carpenter
dismantling the promises of spring—
our shelters brought so slowly down
it’s hard to recollect when each wall
fell, foretell when each corrupt plank
will crumble. Tin Roof 10.01.2012
INGRID DE KOK
Nirox, near the Cradle of Humankind, Magaliesberg
Night’s cold spittle
has tipped tall grasses.
Pools of cool light
bathe our eyes for an hour
as reeds weave baskets
out of morning air. Shards 10.01.2012
INGRID DE KOK
South Africa, May 2008
Today I do not love my country.
It is venal, it is cruel.
Lies are open sewers in the street.
Threats scarify the walls. Today I Do Not Love My Country 10.01.2012
ANGIFI PROCTOR DLADLA
And so the sons and daughters of Mother Earth
descended on our airports.
How pleasing to the soul witnessing
global smiles brightening up our cities. Poet’s Report to FIFA 10.01.2012