FICKSBURG, MY FICKSBURG

die sandklip-rots
blink wit in opkom-son
die sandklip-rots
blink sag in die
bleek volmaan
Imperani sê
“nee, moenie worrie”
ek wens my weer
teen jou lyf vas
my liewe Spitskop
wat fluister-praat
en sê ek tel jou
op as iemand jou
omskop
ek dink my weer
vas teen Caledon
as ek krom hurk
en dors my lippe
tot teen jou druk
en jy fluiser-praat
“ek soebat vir jou
in tye wat jy
stom en dom voel,”
ek verlang na jou
boepens-koelte-maag
waarteen ek skuinslê
in die somer hitte
en jy les my dors,
my liewe Ficksburg,
jy les my dors.

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