Hani, Malema, Ramaphosa, Zuma

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Hani, Malema, Ramaphosa, Zuma (an experimental poem in twelve haiku)

A winter story – 
Even the fog is on edge.
The hanging woman.

You are all memoir –
A room filled with black silence.
Blue and black sleeper.

Here is your poem. Birch –
The moonlight crosses water.
These are my last words.

Red is my colour –
The event was the rival.
The balloons are kind.

Flower mannequin –
This is my parliament’s face.
A recluse calling.

Revenge is bittersweet –
After so many years, behold me.
A little worse for wear.

Beware. One day the earth –
It will take me. Groom me into dust.
This is the new hell.

Your apt skills are sharp –
Well they leave much to be desired.
Pain. I have to disguise it.

It feels like childbirth –
I write to become more aware.
To become a visionary.

I will live with the sun –
I will live without milk and bread.
Jesting stability.

Going to the beach.
I will wrap it up for Christmas’s sake.
Going to the church.

I really love you –
Accept it or refuse it.
This denial-denial denial.

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