Water Poem by Frank Meintjies

the liquid
sometimes silver
sometimes brackish, pushing, seeding, straining
insinuating through small spaces
rib and rib, rock and stone

silver droplets
like the wetness of broken feelings
in my eye

this - or is it that -
on which our dreams sail
like little boats

we came, we bow, we wait
excited
as kids for sprinkles and ice-cream
under africa's sun
we wade in gingerly, we surrender
& sparkle

we feel
lower and higher currents
twirling & writhing
like eels
around our legs
& middle

we feel the tow, the backpull
the lick and slurp
we swallow; are swallowed
while small birds cavort
high up
against the summer blue

and then
the plugholes
to insights
that dribble in, twirl and swell

the liquid of our dreams; then, moments of
waking
into constituents, continents, momentary solidness