One year in

We argue all night, until I ask you to leave.

The next day we walk along the promenade.

I want to view the sea between trees, but

you pull me back, showing me wild jasmine.

We find a bench on the dune.

Below us, a family; a woman

smears sun-cream onto her mate’s face.

A brother and sister build a sandcastle.

You want this for us, you’ve said.

I know I must relinquish the search for a father,

I have lost him and survived,

but still the longing, an ache in the throat.

The sun glares from an aquamarine sky

and waves barrage the beach.

I watch the small girl wrap her legs

around her father’s waist, a limpet, not letting go.

Inheritance

I unravel the skein of lilac mohair
and slip a knot onto the hook,
painstakingly learn from the Youtube clip
how to chain and double crochet.

This wool I weave comes from my grandmother,
a clever woman belittled by her husband.
Working, I sense the solace she found here,
the gashes she knit together, as she stayed and did not leave.

Something delicate forms under my fingers,
like a lacy veil for a sad-eyed bride.
She made me a blanket, once,
strawberry pink, rough, I’ve kept it.

Her losses are not mine. They’re buried
beneath dry pines in Komga * cemetery.
She yellowed, died, in a crumpled bed of rage,
her window opening onto a summer garden, impervious.

But let her passing be a sampler

for the wounded child, watching from the corner.
I link my stitches, swallowing no love
like bile, or poison; craft a small healing.

* small town in the Eastern Cape, SA

From the Lighthouse

The red rail ran rigid around the lighthouse deck.

Below, the sea flurried fierce rocks.

I saw a lone tree, storm survivor, stand severe,

its burnt trunk blackened against the foam.

The guide had warned the group

of danger near the edge,

each adult was to hold the hand of a child.

My son’s grip was a gull’s, longing to fly.

We braced against the cold.

The transparent panes of the huge lamp,

frail-layered in the cloudy light,

belied its powerful night-time pulse,

speaking to ships in the dark.