ALSO WRITTEN FOR THE CAPE

now this old tranny prossy checks her hair
in the antique mirror of the bay: cumulus chic
with a boeing for a hairpin, final touch
and dammit does she glitter in her sequins
no matter the time of day:
her windows in the morning’s tinsel
the lights of limos and ferraris at sundown
and the smooth diagonal design of her streets
in the spotlight of the moon
she writes her memoirs, grand, with rock
as corner stones, statues, monuments
and, ever the dame, tries to be poetic
even though she makes the past and present
more glamorous than it really is
we forgive her when she drops her shawl of fog
and stands: Lady Capetown
floor-lit by the harbour
smiling that smile, with history as a backdrop
and she moves and shimmers and seduces
but oh, in some of those moves
you can sometimes glimpse the manly shoulders
no, not shoulders: the broad mountain of pure pure rock

Ook aan die Kaap geskrywe

Ook aan die Kaap geskrywe

nou dié ou prossie-transvestiet check haar hare
in die baai se antique spieël: cumulus chic
met ’n boeing vir ’n haarnaald, final touch
en kwit, sy glitter van die sequins
maak nie saak the time of day:
haar vensters in die oggend se tinsel
limo’s en ferrari’s se ligte teen skemer
en die gladde diagonal design van haar strate
in die spotlight van die maan
sy skryf haar memoirs, grand, met klip
as hoekstene, standbeelde, monumente
en, ever the dame, try poëties wees
al maak sy die verlede en hede
meer glamorous as wat dit eintlik is
vergewe ons haar wanneer sy haar mis-shawl
laat val, en staan: Lady Capetown
floor-lit deur die hawe
en daai smile dan smile, met geskiedenis as backdrop
en move en shimmer en seduce
maar tog, ai, in van haar moves
sien jy sometimes die manlike skouers raak
nee, nie skouers nie: die breë berg van suiwer klip