In A Taxi To Kwa-Nongoma Poem by LLM Mbatha

Taxi, taxi, kwa-Nongoma
Just out of the city
Traffic disbands
ITheku behind us
The land sways backwards
Zulu homes turning clockwise
60,100,120 speed-signs
ISHOWE 28
ULUNDI 121
Too long before we pass
Oom Wissel’s curve
Black woman:
Beer case on her head
Two full plastic bags
One on each hand
A baby on her back
And yet,
so calm and in equilibrium…
More road-signs
The wind blowing harder
On a plastic window pane
Cracking windows
Cracking doors
Cracking motion
Of an aging engine
Tires on the road sing
Like waters in a stream
Taxi driver’s rhythm
My bums burning
On an iron sit
That slices my body
The upper from the lower
On the soft of my loins
Why am I writing! ?
In the running motion
A scent of burnt fuel
Reaches my intestines
My breakfast!
A five-liter bucket
And my travel bag
Rest on each thigh
I wish to sleep
Like the sleeping baby
Thumb in the mouth
On his mother’s lap
Sitting on my right
But such comforts
Are for babies alone
Heart, body, and mind
Indifferent to the kinky turns
And to the loud voices
Of the drunk ten
Seated behind us...
Thanks God it’s payday Friday!
I try not to think
About the road shootings
I know my head will rest
On her dark brown breasts
Arms around her loins
Entangled like African locks
Fragrant sweat
Luminous in my room
Mouth on my mouth
Drunk from her wine
Sharing a breath
She’ll be mine
And I, hers
Torsos vibrating
To the rhythm of her song
And now sitting in a taxi
Seems to be the smallest
Three-hour sacrifice!