After all, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

After all, we wouldn�t be here
waiting for night to arrive,
had you not one day
out of the blue
swung a leg over
and straddled me, holding
my shoulders
like the backrest
of a chair on the stage
of a play
about this.

I remember
a frilled corolla,
the fetish smell
of your odour.

As we watch the moon
Vishnu, who's fond of everything
and fondles all of it, brings the orb
to the spot where I'm knowing you.

Standing now in delight
I recall how the day we met it rained,
how it fell, poured like a pissing cow,
choked earth and cooked the hills with steam,
enough for us to be afraid
nature would bypass the gods
and allow rivers
to burst in new monsoons.