Poetry

Your stretched nerves 
move, like a reptile 
in a dance; 
for the evolution of sexuality. 
 
The exodus was a stunt 
playing with fire. 
I will hide nothing. 
I was a cloud within a dot. 
 
Unknowing the fall, I 
seek, the failure, to climb 
again on strange words 
to find the underlying meaning of pain. 
 
You begin exploring 
the hills after the unexplained 
apartheid, after the bloodbath 
of the golden peacocks.