Postcolonial Text / Author

Two Poems



All the while
it was inching towards me —
slow but sure, while I
watched and shuddered.
Now it lies in a coiled heap
in front of me, waiting
and I look away in horror.
The moment my eyes move
it springs up to
wind round me
never crushing, never biting
just hissing, face to face
‘I have arrived.’

I freeze
And when I turn my face away in disbelief
it goes back to the cold heap
waiting in front of me
for my next glance.



Come to the table!
I need to thrash it out
                with you!

Why am I
sent here this
closed envelope
without address?

Now ....
You hide!

Half battered —
worming through
the mounds
and pits

I seek
to rediscover you
from the
of the
greatest depressions
and quiz —
only to lose you
once again
the vast
unseen veil
of silence

But I keep
worming ....
to seek again.