Young Bride Poem by Pontsho PCP Pusos

The rising summer sun
Shouts at the restless young bride
As she tosses nervously
In her nagging bridal bed

Her husband covers his head
Against the disturbing sun
And guiltily tries to steal a doze
But gets a rousing poke from the insistent bed

They stare at each other’s morning craves
Look resignedly at the uncooperative bed
Noisy women and quaking chickens without
Drag their tired limbs into morning gowns

She finds some motshikiri-grass brooms
Waiting impatiently outside for her
Grabs one and surveys the size of the dusty yard
That was to be swept before the time-of-the-cattle-horns

Her husband reappears
A sleepy mob of bridesmaids behind him
They cover their wedding hairstyles and start sweeping
As tradition requires of a new fetcher-of-water

Unease sit the women at the cooking shed
As they cover the porridge against the dust
Talk into their tea-cups in strained tones
And wonder why the yard is being swept at the time-of-light