Poems from missing (2010 Modjaji Books)

FRIDAY: Diagnosis


The telephone, once
a domestic creature
has turned into a raptor.
At nine last night
it launched the first attack:
the Doctor’s voice spinning from it
steamed warm and sticky
as fresh entrails:
malignancy
chemotherapy

Cancer.

When I dropped the receiver
the shriek became a burr again.

This morning it perches
beside my unmade bed
wings folded, eyes shut
feigning sleep.


FRIDAY: Diagnosis