PERIGEE
I saw him
last day of primary school
for him
riding his bicycle,
exultant
down that
street
in Parow
next year
high school
a big brainy
boy now
Mars
at its perigree
his head
full of
Ray Bradbury
nothing in the night sky
redder or
more relevant
than our brother
world with
its dust and its
oxides and canals
and
perennial
alien menace
(though
in Mr Bradbury’s
book it
is we
who colonize you
to our shame and
shock and
terror
(the tribes of the plains
know that
story through and
through)
cycling full
of joy
leaving past
behind
for future
wonder
what come the end
of his days
what of this
he foreseen
what
the one
foreseen
might possibly remember
this is a poem
about Parow
a God-forsaken place
jam-packed with churches
some of which, it must
be said, has
been said,
have needle sharp spires
pointing perpendicular
up at
the stars
and the planets
Mars
singled out high above
red
as ever
something knowing
about that look
if this
world of
dreams, and fears,
and desires
and secrets
could ever look
ever feel at all
poems 2 die for 