matt's notebook

boy calls from abroad (jubilee)

I negotiate the interregnum
between +27 and your 'Speaking.'
Your boy calls from abroad.

We take the guns,
walk the whole perimeter of the farm
hunting buck.

Gunstocks invest our sholders.
Grass heads robe our eyes.

Shot. Shot.

Gunpowder attends our nostrils.
Two springbok slaughtered.

You process the kill.
The sun crowns your head,
the blood anoints your hands.

We drink a beer
enthroned in the veld,
feet on a cushion of antelope. No


coverage. I fall to the pavement,
the hour between work and home,
people negotiating zebra crossings.

Matthew John Williams