Tuesday Poem: "She Dances Alone"

On the high veldt

she dances alone,

singing the song that attracts the Iion,

long, slender neck that the great jaws

will break like bringing down the running bok.

In the sweet rustling savannah

she dances alone,

ululating the wounded cry that brings the leopard,

slapping the womanly hillock of her hip

that the great cat will flagrantly

tear asunder from her torso.

Fierce mother African sun

fingering the vibrant coloured beads

that slap slap slap against your daughter's

breasts, forehead, thighs and ankles

as she dances alone,

waiting to be sacrificed to the hunt.

Daughter, your mother will come

to whiten your bones

after the hyenas have stripped them clean.

And then, out on the high veldt,

her spirit will dance alone.

The poet wishes to acknowledge Valley Micropress in whose pages this poem first appeared.