A selection of poetry rooted in domestic humor, Cape Town and South Africa

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Dulce et decorum est

Dulce et decorum est

As I lie here like a dead thing,

All of my simple needs taken care of

I am aware that my nappy is fresh and unsullied,

And that my milk bottle has been consumed

(What a big word for a 15 month old!)

And that it lies tucked just under my blanket here,

And that my comforter lodges, securely held above my tongue,

And it seems to be true of the universe that everything

Is in serene repose,

Although I am quite happy watching the light

Glance off the rotating fishes

In the sky.

There was a huge noise a while back

And I have absolutely no idea who could have generated such an unearthly racket-

But now all I can see is mummy's half-pulled-up rug

With her toes open to the elements

Her mobile vibrating silently while she snores

And granny wheezing breathlessly in the corner

And daddy collapsed on the carpet

My brother sleeping in his crook

And I have no idea why it has gone so quiet

Though I am beginning to suspect it could be

That we are all victims

Ambushed unawares by a couple of urban terrorists?


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