Allan Kolski Horwitz

Dan se ek, ek sal gaan

dan weet ek, ek sal gaan

dan roem ek, ek sal altyd gaan

as die Vaderland my roep


Without waiting for night’s pure purple cover

umbrella for licence

crimson brain

overheated behind fences

Meneer de Blank oils his gun

I drive in

past kafees garages

bare high gutters flowing with brown water

beside brick rectangles

spires where voices join with Meneer de Blank

to praise the Lord of Light

but my eyes have seen

motorist cruising where the road runs

by the grey river

long lines of Christians

whirling serrated wings against sunwashed blue

springkaan birds over the Bridge Motel

day dry windless

peeled trace of moon suspended

bowlegged beakwinged

cacophony of flocks

I coast by the grey river

watch children in scraps of pants

drop sticks into the water

then order hamburger and chips at the Wimpy

while the waitress with lemon perfume

says God’s White Hands

lifted a curtain from the world

and there

behind that film

He watches Meneer de Blank

throw umbrellas

the blown heads of his woman/his sons

till loving man of glass turns the gun

on himself

sticklegged in the trees

locust birds watch

children swing their fish

cauliflower butterflies shimmer scales

locust birds unblinking

before the bodies in the brick rectangle

Man whose wife had to be sent Elsewhere

Man whose kids had to die on their beds

Man who would go shopping for shoes in a tan safari suit


behind a curtain in room 999

at the Bridge Motel

I switch on a television

to watch his white hands

throw purple umbrellas

all over Parys

all over the blowout