I'd have to be dead
to let you back in my bed
Your voice is the last thing
I need stuck in my head

There are many things I need to do,
want to do,
am going to do,

Many places I need to go,
want to go,
am going,

Things I need to see,
want to see,
am seeing,

But to look into your sleepy eyes,
on the other side of my pillow each morning,
that by itself
would be enough for me.

You're far from the drumbeat
Young girl
Lions and zebras in cages
You never liked their stripes
Father would grind his teeth
At the sight of those
Dom perde
Once you saw a man
Lying in the street—a kaffir
His skin raised and bloodied in lines
Across his chest
Reminding you of standing between bars and
Those streaked beasts  
Stamping in their own mess
Kept far away from your
White silk tunic
Still young enough to marvel
What would father think
******* swollen with milk for
Bearing a child the color
Of Christmas chocolate
"An abomination above all others"
Father always fired the dienaar seuns
On the day of their thirteenth birthday
For your protection
He said
For your protection.