This juice from the corner shop
It’s more well mannered than the last one I got
and more so than me.
Still it has drenched my house
with a tidal wave ten stories
and the leftover debris includes:
Shards of paper, broken thoughts
and three orchard workers
from the Eastern Cape.
Huddled around the radiator
our teeth are the wings of a hummingbird,
our legs are leaves of aloe ferox in the desert breeze;
we are tied by ropes of history
woven with strands of guilt
and unimaginable cruelty.
We attempt to clear the wreckage
as I make a quiet decision
to drink juice less.
Artwork by Elizabeth Bracegirdle
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