XHOSA KALABASH

Xhosa kalabash of song, painted
blue and red with hard clay and
stale dust from the veld. In the
hot chasm a toktokkie bursts, dabbing
the dry neck and the bracelet-of-bones
with the chipped chant of the earth and
the raw milk in the stones. And the feet
stamp the cropped land as the scales float
in the scum. This the wind cups in tender
palm and drinks with drowsy lip, not
touching the foam that sucks the thickness
of the song. Politely the kaffirbooms sip.