CHILDHOOD

1.
To look back into
my childhood world
I must open locked gates
and climb high walls.

I try not to see the
khaki-clad days
in the thorny playgrounds
of my youth,

but the faces of friends
I scrubbed floors with
or sat across at table
eating dumplings;
nor do I hear
the rattling
of a heavy
bunch of keys,
the drone of
evening prayers,
or beaten cries,
but the dreams
I shared with friends…

2.
Dreams

To have a pigeon cage
and happiness,
you need
banana-crate walls
and wire mesh.
But, pigeons most of all!

The pigeons you must catch
in the gutters of the
clustered rooftops,
a pillow-case full at night,
when no one is around;
or, set a makeshift trap.

We used to climb the rooftops
to catch
a glimpse
of the world outside;

sit all day long
trapping hopes and dreams
to fill
our cage…


3.
Honeycombs

Honeycombs
clinging to the trees
are worthwhile
climbing for,
bleeding for,
falling down
ten hurting feet
or more.


4.
Battles


Dust-bin lids
made clanging shields;
home-made swords
drew lots of blood.

Battles were part
of ‘free-time’
in a playing field
walled in
like a fortress.
5.
Fighting Back …

Fighting back
was useless.
Not toy soldiers,
but bigger boys
taught me that.

One day
I found that words
were more precious
to use
than scruffy fists;

unwavering eyes
are a platform
which cannot
be breached.


6.
Friends

I had a friend
who brought
his letters from home
to me
to read
to him.
Head over my shoulder,
he would follow my finger excitedly;
stopping me for explanations
of the things
he could not understand.

The bad news; the vague promises.

Comics always followed
to put both our minds
at rest…


7.
An Aunt

Marching down
to town
in gay pairs
was a treat.

So many new faces; so many new things.

A lady once stopped me,
stroked my hair
and gave me a chocolate.

I told the whole dormitory
that night
that I had an aunt
who lived in town.

Every night at wash time
I looked out the window
down into the street
hoping to see her.

Perhaps she doesn’t know
where I stay...   

Copyright: Mario d'Offizi

MEDITATION UPON THE EARTH

i spread, all flesh
& blood & bone & brain
fresh upon her rain
soaked sweaty sweet
& sultry sands, teats
pulsating in my hands

Cocktrembling frenzy
of her fountains

i tongued time
& suckled mountains.

MEASURED AGAINST MAN

Measured against Time,
i am a split second
bred into a span
of years; measured against

God, i am a sperm
seeking womb of earth to
germinate, give root,
to hold to Time; measured

against the earth I
am a man as tall as
trees, wide as open
spaces are; bound by Time;

Measured against Man.

BRAINWAVE

Pregnant wave
forehead clasped
with curls chaotic

bloodlessly
you flung
from your swollen belly
a fish at my feet
on the sand

then lay back
laboriously
hissing
clawing to collect
your afterbirth
of weed.

LOOP STREET 4 A.M.

“nice butt” she teased
taunted
flaunted

“I’m on a pluck”
he threatened finger jabbing
eyes stabbing
“don’t screw with me!”

The streetlights twinkled
The bars burped
The discos ducked and dived
and danced.

And the street thrashed with
vigour
Fleshed with pretty kids
burning thighs
hungry eyes.

Then he kicked the transvestite
in the crutch…
who screamed swore
hit back viciously

Nose burst blood
thwack of bone
All hell broke and boiled
over.

Then a knife twinkled
And the streetlights groaned.

The bars burped
and blood seeped
silent into tar.

DING-DONG MERRILY ON HIGH

Its Xmas time in Cape Town
Ding-dong merrily on high
The street kids sniff glue
And the yuppies sniff “snow’
Ding-dong merrily on high.

NAMELESS

We buried her
before we named her.

They took her from
the warm womb
with medical precision
for thirty rands.

Buried her that night
wrapped in newspaper
in a ‘drink-fresh-orange’
paper bag
dug a little way
into the soft soil
covering with grasstuffed
sods and twigs.

These heaved silently.
I heard them.

I heard her too.
Crying out.
Small life – without voice
Small life – without breath

crying out.