The air is wet w/ earth
and shell,
the sustained thump of laager;
nettles carve boots
adder-like in the midmorning
as water meets and runs out
farther than the eye can see.
And tourists baffle their ears
w/ hands a-fleece w/ blood
to calm the sight of gunshots.
Am I wrong?
Or did I see them laugh
at the townships?
– 6 January, 2015