I saw in the distance a god
sucking life through a straw, sucking
the silence; then she darted in a blur
to where, behind a bush,
pygmies pumped air into a beach-ball,
chuckling and slapping smeared hands on it,
till it took the redness of Basotho dye
used by graduates at mountain schools;
they released it, watched it go up, up,
giggling in fields of breakfast
as they ran behind it,
leaping to touch the bottom
now out of reach.
© Rethabile Masilo
Tags:
Lesotho Poetry
Poéfrika
