Kneel in my embrace

Kneel in my embrace, thus, and spill
with clairvoyant remorse your melancholy seed
in me so that it can struggle inside me
and I can listen to the jabbering in me,
secretly, of the monster.

In the breathing in and out of tombs,
in the marrow of an innocent survivor
ever so skilfully our clever child
lays his stainless eggs, shifting edgewise,
a parasite and his congenital claim.

From the blind alleys of the barren ones
clogged by the sludge of exhausted lust,
from the thick labia of succulents
bred from the soil of our luscious land,
from all the gaps in our memory

clonings swell out carelessly, squirt
at the cracked sky like whispering foam.
But let us embrace; no reproaches,
no allusions. We are reflection
of that which decays. Sometimes something flickers.

Sometimes a pot plant whines. Sometimes
the lace-curtain trembles. Death rattle-songs. Hear them?
The house is contracting around us. A flash
caught for an instant and instantly lost
in the milky quartz seam of the night we are.

Kneel in my embrace

Kniel in my omhelsing, so, en stort,
berouvol van heldersiendheid, jou droewe saad
in my dat dit kan spartel in my
en ek kan luister na die gebrabbel in my
stilletjies van die gedrog

In die asemhalingstelsel van graftes,
in die murg van ’n argeloos oorlewende
lê ons bekwame kind voortreflik verby
sy vlekvrye staal eiers en skuif skuins weg,
ons parasiet met erflike aanspraak.

Uit die doodloopstrate van die onvrugbares
verstop van die slyk van vermoeide wellus,
uit die dik skaamlippe van vetplante
gebroei uit die grond van ons heerlike land,
uit al die gate in ons geheue

peul onverskillig die klonings en spuit
soos fluisterende skuim na die gekraakte lug.
Maar laat ons mekaar omhels, geen verwyte,
geen sinspelinge. Ons is afspieëling
van wat vergaan. Soms flikker dit.

Soms kerm ’n potplant. Soms ril
die fyngordyn. Roggelliedjies. Hoor jy?
Die huis trek nou om ons. ’n Kaatsing
’n oomblik gevang en oombliklik verloor
teen ’n nagtelike melkkwartsnaat is ons.