Young Men In Maun Poem by Frank Bana

The house, on which the moonlight fell
Leaving a ghostly shadow mark
Had a porch, a low white wall
On which my Norwegian friend
Perched with the trophies of his hunt

He worked in the village hospital
A laboratory technician, he knew
Exactly who had tested and for what
But it was not so bad, those were
The years before the HIV

Once a month, just after pay day
When the moon was full over the plains
We'd open the door
Loudly unleash
My late 70s dance mix tapes

And invite the council workers in,
The nurses and the Danish volunteers
He bought the beer, I bought the bream
From the fisheries depot, cooked it up
With lemon juice in thick wide pans.

Six days a week John drove to work
Never bringing his lab tests home
Preparing for his doctor's life
He stocked the fridge with kudu meat
I cooked quietly, not touching his peace

Far from perfect, but beautiful
Ruled by the codes and by the moon
Like the lovers of our nights, with whom
We visited the riverside
Drank beer and coke and watched for birds

And that house - still standing, probably
These twenty-five years on
Protected district property
Its small garden of moon
Drunk dry by brazen sun.