from Requiem for This House
the father will definitely be burnt
the mother too, will be burnt
the little boys are then, already burnt
even the miracles the little girl had made,
will get burned, the little girl’s mind was always awake
circuited words in her brain would all the time
foreshock, would all the time
see the insane. . .
waiting is like this, a demon
a startled curfew, already
within lakes in the U.S.
we have burnt wings of digital civilisation
such a sad triumph
with this highest daze of history, and within cabled streams
Mediterranean seas, drone
for immediate and ephemeral
for observer (U.N.)
fiends, friends, and mighty nations
for fellow travellers
for your ordinary fan-club members, conditionality
or due to these times, foam falls from desires
foiled anguishes, shit fills the whole picture
within such nights, my love, my tongue daring like a blind child,
were they to result, into my long-awaited stance
coming out is the night, going to shower my face with light,
willing to die, bleeding ancient weights of a torn memory.
Khulile Nxumalo has worked as a television documentary director and producer and is currently commissioning editor for drama at the South African Broadcasting Corporation.