How A Poem Comes To Me (Free Verse Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

I sit in the boardroom in Johannesburg in City Deep
where with precision I do prepare books for an external audit,
reconciling creditors and debtors and all kinds of things,
when a driver outside in the parking aria do drive in at speed,
the managing-director across me does jump to his feet,
the MAN-lorry does brake outside to a halt,
gravel like hail do scatter in all directions,
where the horse does stand with the trailer like a pocketknife,
where a black hand does slam the keys down
and this is how a poem comes to me,
as here is a hellish kind of thing
and where I am working I am astonished,
where my figures do balance to the exact cent
and the breath of the director smells of peppermint.

© Gert Strydom