30 POEMS Pravasan Pillay
Some of these poems have previously appeared in Carapace, Donga, Green Dragon, Litnet, and New Coin.
Published by Tearoom Books 2015 Stockholm, Sweden 30 Poems Š Pravasan Pillay Cover and graphic design by Jenny Kellerman Pillay
Contents Can I get a witness?.................................7 Letter box ..............................................8 The magnificents ....................................9 Beached...............................................10 A poet’s worry ......................................11 outside the willowvale ............................12 Tremor................................................14 Folding handkerchiefs for a stranger ........15 Come on now missy ...............................16 The pavement is lonely ...........................17 I perfume my regret ...............................18 Early yawning ......................................20 Freeway ...............................................21 Pension ................................................22 Backseat, Umgeni .................................23 I used to smoke too much ........................24 Short cuts .............................................25 Set this house right ................................26
Heartburn ...........................................27 To cup your breasts ...............................28 A ribbon for second place ......................30 She’ll fit in ...........................................31 Durban nights (will kill you) ..................32 Ventilation ..........................................34 The gloomy one they’re all waiting for .....35 Premises ..............................................36 An epitaph from Mobeni Cemetery .........37 I married a goose ..................................38 Others .................................................40 I’m sorry I faded ...................................41
We are not parted, Jessica – Not yet. I am still hoola-hooping in your wedding ring. – Not Parted, Julius Chingono
Can I get a witness? You say call you when I’m sober but calling you when I’m sober is what got me in this mess.
7
Letter box Father’s Day was created by the card companies he said shutting the empty letter box. It’s all commercial he lectured to a deserted street.
8
The magnificents A car full of factory women on a work day rejoiced. We chased after motorcades of house-coats throwing dandelions up smoking exhaust pipes. From behind tinted windows they kissed tiny love-notes on the backs of wage packets to all who stood in their breeze. These magnificents drove through stop streets. 9
Beached The young couple lounge on the beach laughing discreetly at the gut of the middle-aged x. “Promise me never that.” “I don’t see it happening,” he replies, reaching for the ring.
10
A poet’s worry I find that when I do not think of myself, I do not think at all – Jules Renard
Hypothetically, if we were to achieve this salt utopia what would become of my poems?
11
outside the willowvale outside the willowvale near umbilo underneath a tree i fall with you again a strand of hair in a book laughter rolling slow shall we exchange hesitant poetry? sneak me another glass hide it beneath the roots there where it hugs the tar daring a drunken afrikaner sings songs 12
spits into the mic dance now it’s dark you lead i follow this slouched heart i ate a warm apple while I waited for you durban dust settling over me i talk with folks to pass the time
13
Tremor He keeps silent to watch your lips to listen for tremors in your syllables. He wants to pick your voice in a crowded place and stammer: “Ah it’s you.”
14
Folding handkerchiefs for a stranger She lines corners mind elsewhere. In her mouth a ball of cotton that she shapes with her tongue. She knows he won’t notice this editing this pruning. Her warm breath so close.
15
Come on now missy Come on now missy I circle twist outside your gate. Wind spilled wine. Music will be the death of me. I had so many plans.
16
The pavement is lonely The pavement is not as welcoming as he thought it’d be when he said: “You keep the house, and I, my dignity.”
17
I perfume my regret It just so happens that I perfume my regret. The rare scent of missed opportunities tickles my nostrils. I have been known to jasmine my chances with handfuls of camphor. I’ve stayed up nights to bottle the fine spray of lost oceans in underground distilleries of forgetfulness. My dry china heart is lotioned with the milk of a thousand bleeding paw paws. Those cast stones of youth brought forth the stickiness of today. I spent my past in another country gathering the petrified seeds and petals 18
of herbs and flowers in gardens of never could be. My past-time is permutations mutations. The more infinite the better. I am erect at the word remember. The very scent of it.
19
Early yawning They’re at the stage where even a yawn is touching. Nevertheless it’s not yet nine and she worries for the future.
20
Freeway the freeway is anything but
21
Pension Sitting in the backyard watching her dry the clothes he forgets about the short skirts at the stop and decides on that pension plan.
22
Backseat, Umgeni The steering lock is lodged in the small of her back. That, she reminds him, will be their only precaution.
23
I used to smoke too much I used to smoke too much, sometimes thirty, forty cigarettes a day. Then I devised a strategy to stop. I would imagine that the cigarette was my cock. Do you really want to do this, I would ask myself, flame poised over tobacco tip. Do you really want every intake of breath to mean an incrementally smaller member? This, in a roundabout way, is my explanation of how I stopped smoking cigarettes and began smoking telephone poles.
24
Short cuts She owned a special compass that pointed the way to Hell. Like Columbus this girl believed in short cuts.
25
Set this house right Six o’ clock abandons him standing at the stop mouthing things to say. At the house she sets dinner mats perfectly parallel. Each thinking of tomorrow.
26
Heartburn It ain’t right to split with me after a chicken tikka.
27
To cup your breasts My stekie, tonight, to cup your breasts in my hands would be a wonderful thing. To spend these hours before dawn deciphering the mystic Braille of your dark areola, such enlightenment. Resting my thoughts in the ample hollow of your shoulders, having our hands meet at your apex. Ja! Tonight, to discover a scar on your back would be a tender delight. 28
Tonight, all that I will need is to shape my hands around your self. The curve of your belly becomes a miracle tonight. My stekie, listen, let us leave tomorrow for tomorrow. For now, a neat harmony of beings we will form when my distant hand falls asleep on you.
29
A ribbon for second place He doesn’t want to talk to you and she won’t give me the time. It seems the hour for compromise.
30
She’ll fit in She wants to impress his parents and that involves leaving him behind.
31
Durban nights (will kill you) alone at a bar counter, static on the radio peeling labels with old man hands yet none to applaud or kiss the barmaid has lost interest in you and talks to the cook sharing wonderful jokes that you strain to hear and whispering when they spot you you stack your coins and order another and she smirks at the five-cent pieces as you hide your filthy nails underneath last week’s classifieds you rest your ear on the counter to listen for sirens and woodborers as the stool nearby is dragged too loud and your head spins and spins 32
“i got your message. it’s monday you know.” “i’m not feeling right.” “what’s wrong?” “things.” “okay let’s talk.” “what about your work?” “it’s night now.”
33
Ventilation With a tired walk he shows her the house. “There’s no ventilation,” she announces. He agrees. Later, alone: “Since when do you breathe.”
34
The gloomy one they’re all waiting for Wash his hair in the kitchen sink between yesterday’s dishes. You’ve been telling the walls all he’s fit for is staring down drains so get the soap out the cupboard.
35
Premises One day I will end and abandon the premises, etcetera.
36
An epitaph from Mobeni Cemetery Her true passion lay in howevers and indeed her weekends were devoted to them.
37
I married a goose I married a goose And lived in a pond People did frown About our bond We got no peace In my hometown Ran to the city Got hounded around People were cruel Spat in my face Said I should stick To my own race People will say You should live your life What business of theirs Who I take as a wife 38
If they grew feathers If they grew a beak Then maybe from them A wife I would seek
39
Others You will be free when the world is devoid of others. Until then I suggest manners.
40
I’m sorry I faded The last time you saw me I had a hickie on my neck and you slapped me but that was years ago and now you’re just standing there in your sari telling me how much you like my tie. Don’t the old deserve slaps?
41
Pravasan Pillay has published a chapbook of poetry, Glumlazi (2009), and a collection of co-written comedic short stories, Shaggy (2013).
also by tearoom books Glumlazi by Pravasan Pillay Knock Knock Jokes Pertaining to Common Human Ailments by Pravasan Pillay Romancing the Dead by Gary Cummiskey Reader Digest: Poetry and Recipes eds. Pravasan Pillay and Victoria Williams Loop #1, Loop #2 I Remain Indoors by Gary Cummiskey