Friday, January 10, 2014
Poetry from Swaziland part 4
Tableau: driving past a parlour
August 2, 2011 at 3:27pm
In a staggering line, they walk
An Asian mob of about 8 men
apart from the clamouring train of traffic
beyond the wall.
Grave, they walk.
The little middle-aged woman
She, her face a furious red
With the force of her bewildered
Tears. Worldless. She
Grips for life the hands nearest to hers.
The little band soldiers on
A crumbling mother and her 8-man buttressStagger to the line of waiting cars.