By Sandile Dudu Saki
I stare at the peril of your sterile thoughts as you funnel the whisper
Naked as the motives of your comrades-in-arms
I looked at the firmness of your grip as you pulled the reins galvanising the gathering into oblivious thrills of enchantment
Your words, like your promises, dry and hoarse as the gurgling taps
You smile, a suspended pothole
Perhaps a sinkhole on delivery’s path
Eskom wipes your vision, hurling the chamber into darkness
And I continue to stare
