Mama Mubuyu
skin like smooth stone
the dull magenta of a firm ripe yam
mubuyu holds velvety fruits high
that even dried stay sweet
a treat that won’t rot
she keeps a hollow in her knee
a safe spot for sleeping birds
and the languid winter air
teases her empty crown
most of all
she stays rooted
a murmuring witness
to all deeds done and undone here
a millennia-long memory
a call to humility
impossible to ignore
Makgadikgadi Pans Bedtime Story
we lay ourselves down
on a flat white board
under an amber smile of newish moon
and saltspray of star and spiral arm
far from the reach of everything
breathing in the last breath
of expired ocean
letting the cations
melt negativity away
becoming a simple body
sleeping sound
back hugging ancient earth
under a baobab’s silent steady watch
good night
