In Bloemfontein

Woman to man, they lie,
He not quite white
As she, nore she
So black as he.

Save where her stomach curves
His flesh and hers,
Commingling, match.
Eyes catch,

That dare not meet
Beyond that night,
Though their alternate
Thighs, locked tight,

Defy you to discriminate
Between his skin and hers.
To him Pass Laws
Apply; she knows no night.

But the pale strip her loins
Keep from the sun
Marks her, his tiger-woman,
White, while he's all one.

That strip convicts. He covers
With his hand the site
Of crime. Soon shutters,
Stripping him with light

Peel colour from his hips-
She his woman, he
Her man, simply human
Like the heart beneath her lips.

A matter of degree
Elsewhere, no more;
But here, in Bloemfontein,
Keep closed the door.

This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home Page