WHEN THE BOATS COME IN

a poem by Conrad Kruger van den Bergh, South Africa - poetry writer, author, poet

The cold sun tears through the window
strangling the brown cotton curtains
and the night dies against the wall
in blood splatters of dried red
dawn bleeds like this when cut too deep
leaving the new day painful to see

she was still mumbling to the stars
crazy words
that once meant something to midnight
when she danced with the darkness
alone, recklessly and free
moving her body to things that removed the hurt of rejection
only to stumble back home
misunderstood
like a worn woman off the streets

and I found her like that
this morning
laying at her front door
carried her to her bed
she reeked of sweat, booze and tobacco
left her there
to wriggle around on the mattress
drowsy and feverish warm
a damaged devil beneath an angelic white sheet

and this same morning
later
I came around again
to check if she is ok
“You need some coffee?” I ask her
she mumbles something again
while I count the storm damaged boats coming in
cracking the sea’s glass

no one cares
about her or the boats
only me
about a woman who should have been dead
and boats that never should have made it home
a thousand times over

“Mazzy, …can I make you coffee?” I ask her again
She keeps on mumbling
it makes no sense
“Thank you….” she says eventually
“…for putting me to bed”
“No problem, …you’ll be ok?”
“Yeah…”
“I’ll be back a bit later”
“OK…”

and I leave her bedroom
lock her apartment door
I’ll come around later
to see
if she
is ok….

Conrad Kruger van den Bergh (Copyright, 2016)

HER NAME IS SARAH
All about Mazzy
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