the stress of the sky has
cracked the ceiling

I was on the Gautrain
when I got that
(forgive my
lapse into homonym)
train of thought

today I found
no cause for obituary
my cells not at war
with each other
(truth emerging when cocooned
in that enormous mind-rattling
magnetic machine)

in celebration my brother made
me drink hand-grenades (jagermeister bombs
with tequila pins) and
I am floating towards you now
my perfect image of
African loveliness (with
a capital R for
relief, reprise, respite,
and,if
you should touch me,
rapture, resonance and
yes, resurrection

the sky has cracked but
fingers have cemented, secured and sealed

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