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Ensconced in Duchess Court she managed to retain
some antique furniture and a precarious dignity:
and after fifty years as midwife also the knack
of charming people. Here she preserves photographs,
old journals and her pain in specific detail.
The Royal Albert tea service (picked out
at Anstey’s as a bride) she uses only
for teas such as this – and all the snacks I made myself.
Now, this is the lounge where we will have our tea.

But let me show you something at the back
– please excuse the mess round here, I am
a dressmaker too, you know – designer stuff –
the place gets terribly untidy; and then, of course
Lindy’s always underfoot. Sit down! Now sit!
She gets so worked up, you see. And this gate
I had installed for my security. But just take a look
out there: You can almost see eternity. Now,
have you ever seen a view like that?

This gown I made for Marguerite. She came
round here this morning – Miss South Africa of ’68.
Never married, do you know? And still
as beautiful, although she’s put on weight.
Poor girl. I wonder, though . . . Oh, never mind,
that’s, after all, the way things go. Now come,
let’s have some tea. Do you know this? Earl Grey,
which Gavin brings from London, always fresh.
He’s with SAA, a gentleman and very kind –

The sun is shifting, she makes more tea. We speak
of this and that: My husband died in ’83, how sad
for me who had no kith or kin. But then, you see,
the Lord provides: my tiny Lindy here
is like a child and always such a joy. But what
is to become of her if I – She speaks, and all the while
the light around us fades. It’s getting late,
she notes, but don’t go yet! You have to see
the view at night. I go along with her to look:

Like a sea the city lies, incandescently inflamed
in outgrowths round the core, the outskirts –
like a nocuous yellow flicker along the seam
dividing elite and deprived neighbourhoods:
a Milky Way torn off by gravity. This is a place
of people, of passion and loneliness. She looks:
You know what this reminds me of? I listen
and then leave. But embedded in that metaphor
(a cemetery alight) I see an old placenta
splayed out – black and terminal with blight.

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Verskans in Duchess Court het sy behou:
antieke meubels en ‘n wankel waardigheid;
ná vyftig jaar as vroedvrou ook die slag
om mense aan te trek. Hier bewaar sy foto’s,
ou joernale en haar pyn in fyn besonderheid.
Die Royal Albert-teeservies (as bruid
by Ansteys uitgekies) gebruik sy net vir teas
soos dié – and all the snacks I made myself.
Nou, dis die lounge waar ons gaan sit –

but let me show you something at the back
– verskoon die deurmekaarspul hier, ek maak
mos klere ook – designer stuff – die plek
raak vreeslik omgewoel; and then of course
is Lindy altyd tussenin. Sit down! Now sit!
Sy raak so opgewerk, jy weet. En hierdie hek
het ek gekry vir veiligheid. Maar kyk
net daar: Jy sien tot in die ewigheid. Now
have you ever seen a view like that?

This dress I made for Marguerite. Sy was
vanoggend hier – Miss South Africa of ’68.
Nooit getrou nie, weet jy dit? And still
as beautiful, although she’s put on weight.
Poor girl. Ek wonder tog . . . Oh, never mind,
dit ís maar soos dié dinge gaan. Now come,
let’s have some tea. Ken jy dié? Earl Grey.
Gavin bring vir my, uit Londen, altyd vars.
He’s with the SAA, a gentleman and very kind –

Die sonvlak skuif, sy maak nog tee. Ons praat
oor dit en dat: My husband died in ’83, how sad
for me who had no kith or kin. But then,
you see, the Lord provides: klein Lindy hier
is nes ‘n kind en altyd ‘n plesier. Maar wat
sal van haar word as ek – Sy praat, en onderwyl
verdwyn die lig om ons. It’s getting late,
merk sy, but don’t go yet! You have to see
the view at night! Ek swig en ons gaan kyk:

Die stad lê soos ‘n see en brand ontsteek
in uitwasse rondom die kern, buitewyk –
dit flikker geel en giftig langs die naat
waar here-rif en agterbuurte skei: ‘n melkweg,
afgeruk deur swaartekrag. Dit is die plek
van mense dié, van drif en eensaamheid. Sy kyk:
You know what this reminds me of? Ek luister
en vertrek. Maar ingebed in daardie metafoor
(a cemetery alight) sien ék ‘n ou plasenta
oopgevlek – swart, en terminaal besmet.