Whenever daylight falls upon the city
(for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee)
 
        Elijah. David. Jeremiah. Job. Jonah.
God's chosen. There were others. There were others.
        I've written about this before. Falling
 
in love and falling to the centre of being
        out of love but I've never written about
        our love before. You made the veins in
 
        my heart splendidly narrow so that only
        the pure river could flow through.
        The smell of roses. Old wounds forgotten.
        Only the reigning legend of the sparse --
        sparse river could get through the shepherd
before anything else. Before the blood itself. I wanted you to
        know that I'm pressed for time. That
        you've been a legend in my life before
        you became a legend in real life. I'm
        writing this to thank you for not taking me
        all the way to madness like the others
        did. You were the virtuous one. You were
        the one who saved me. I just thought
        that you should know that. I've been carrying
        that around with me for the longest time
 
 You were the original authentic.
        Genuine. They were fake but I ate
        their cake anyway because I was
 
        young. I called myself victim under a
        million stars. I just wanted you to
        know that life is different for me now.
        I'm no longer running up streets and
        down streets in Johannesburg-citylife.
 
        I'm authoritative when it comes to
        my feelings now. I don't try to slip a yes in
when I mean no. I've learned how to say no.
        Oh, I also know what thirst is. But I
        don't project my hate unto other people
 
        and I listen to others (which I never ever
        did before). This grid, I have put it away.
 
			
			
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