PREGNANT WOMAN
Under the crust of night I lie singing,
curled up in the sewer, singing,
and my offspring lies in the water.
I play I’m a child:
gooseberries, gooseberries and heather,
kukumakrankas, aniseed,
and the tadpole slides
in the slime in the stream,
in my body
my foamwhite figure;
but sewer o sewer,
my offspring lies in the water.
Membrane red of bloodsong still singing,
I and my yesterday,
my yesterday suspended under my heart,
my kalkoentjie, my awaying world,
and my heart that sings like a cicada
my cicada heart sings like a cicada;
but sewer o sewer
my offspring lies in the water.
I play I’m happy:
look how far the firefly splashes!
the moonslice, a wet snout that quivers –
but with the morning, the limping midwife
chilly and grey on the shifting hills,
I push you out through the crust into the daylight,
o grieving owl, great owl of daylight,
freed from my womb but soiled
soiled with my tears
and infected with sadness.
Sewer o sewer,
I lie shivering singing,
how else but shivering
with my offspring submerged in your water…?