Ek het ons storie geskryf Met ‘n lem op my lyf Die son was te helder daai dag Vir my hartklop om langer vir joune te wag. Ek het die mes soos ‘n kwas vas gehou En diep snye geskilder – ‘n van Gogh vir jou. Ons verhaal het verskyn Op my vel – lyn [...]
She is free She lives her life as a book with intricate pages I can smell them on her. I smell books on my mother. She reeks of their shrieking, pongs of their pulsing. I cry her a book With my tears, I mold a wet life for us My mother makes me cry because [...]