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| The Man And His Hound*
This man is made out of stone, granite of your broken sink. He makes sure that no one can close the door called AIDS. His shoe-shined shoe keeps the door ajar. He enjoys being watched as he reads his books with fairy tales. He believes in plants and flowers; they make the dead people smile, they change the flow of rivers, change what is north into south. But it doesn’t change the night. It doesn’t change the appetite of the dead animals, of the gnawing on fingers, the face of the one you will never meet again. He sows dead seed. The harvest overwhelming. He must be all smile and wealth; shoe-shined shoe keeps the door ajar. Plants and veins grow and rot, grow and rot, air the assassin, soil, and a black horse eating meat. His dead sleep like the fast moving clouds, the small lizards waiting for a bit of sun. It takes as long as it takes. Hiding underneath a big boulder, waiting for raindrops and their little flies of spring. * South African President Mbeki and the minister of Health. 19 March 2006 |