02-03-2013, 12:21 AM
I wear the veil of past Bedouin women.
Tuesday pitched in Shenzhen spring.
The trees decked out
with birds and lanterns -
sing song glow.
Sunday had been
grey skies
filled with snow,
my head in a silver fox
against Moscow’s howling winter.
My child, sobbing
in South African Summer,
brings me a Highveld hail storm.
Ice bounces high into the ether
lands in skype
to become my own hot tears.
I walk with the swollen feet of a nomad.
The seeds of alien ideas
dropped from my bag
flourish.
I peel mango with the teeth of an african,
and see the juice
coat your chin, William.
I observe with the eyes of a childless mother.
You wipe with the hand of a motherless child.
Tuesday pitched in Shenzhen spring.
The trees decked out
with birds and lanterns -
sing song glow.
Sunday had been
grey skies
filled with snow,
my head in a silver fox
against Moscow’s howling winter.
My child, sobbing
in South African Summer,
brings me a Highveld hail storm.
Ice bounces high into the ether
lands in skype
to become my own hot tears.
I walk with the swollen feet of a nomad.
The seeds of alien ideas
dropped from my bag
flourish.
I peel mango with the teeth of an african,
and see the juice
coat your chin, William.
I observe with the eyes of a childless mother.
You wipe with the hand of a motherless child.