a windmill,
endlessly moving, yet fixed
He was a cobra
fangs millimetres from a wrist
He was a crystal decanter,
flung across a room
He was a rain-filled tent
in a monsoon
He was the dragonfly
walking on a sun-baked back
He was a cored apple
filled with dagga for a cooling smoke
He was the fishing knife,
held against a madalla’s throat
He was an orange
rolled to a rogue elephant
He was the jacaranda drum,
played in an empty riverbed
He was a chameleon,
uncertain whether red or green
He was a motorbike,
swivelling three sixties in a storm
He was a swimming pool
made from a drought-stricken furrow
He was the day after
tomorrow.
Copyright © Afric McGlinchey 2012
