I have this plan:
Before this mortal coil drops and
Strangles the life out of this deformity, when
Epileptic in death I finally find an equalising, an ached for norm, until then
Please let me honour women
Visceral women, potent, intrepid, valiant
Undaunted, each one a muse for this imperfect work
Greet each sweetly (uninvited this tribute, perchance unwelcome)
Positioned as it is, on this landscape of identity
Spoiled, pockmarked, pitted, so
Let me not, then, to this inspirational marriage admit impediments
But simply say that, to my mind’s eye
She (this muse) is faultless
Jokes aside, she is as pristine as each new moment, as
Opalescent as the rainbow in the morning
Until now, until now, I am soundless around her
For safety sake wisdom might suggest I ‘van die os op die jas’
Now saying that, of course, ‘die middel kan wel erger as die kwaad wees’
Quiet next, (better be) better be still (thumping, it’s thumping)
For ever keep my peace, this ceasefire, this concord
Must remember, yet, that love is not love which alters when
It alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.
Perhaps that’s the rub, aye, the irritation. Maybe Spenser held it best:
‘Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time’. Shakespeare (I didn’t listen) though warned me wise
‘Give thy thoughts no tongue.’ I will be still and to mine own self be true.
dykiegirl 