POETRY
(Copyright - Pierre du Toit)
...................................................................................................................................................................
De Koker
De Koker was a simple guy
(he cut my knee one day
with a knife
in mindless play
when we were children)
he never read
(his eyes were grey
and dull, like the scheme
house
where he lived)
his mother was never there
his father
was - away, at least
I don't remember either
I don't recall much morehttp://www.mylensandi.com
(a plastic checkered table cloth?)
but that's the point
de Koker simply was
in childhood
like a cockroach
happened to be there
(I told a lie
about the knife
someting told me then
he hadn't meant to)
after that de Koker faded thoughjohannesburg_1980_large.html
not quite, still there
like one you cannot see
and do not think about
but know subconsciously
is there
in some damp corner
or below the sink
(I've never seen one sleep,
that is,
I've never seen a cockroachhttp://www.mylensandi.com
with a father)
until one day I heard
de Koker
(they never seek the spray -
they always try to get away)
had thrown himself against a trainjohannesburg_1980_large.html
(See
photograph at PeopleSA / Album 007 #7 )
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