"Between the animals and Africa there is an understanding
that the human beings have not yet earned."
From "Venture to the
Interior," Laurens van der Post
The woman at the door
sells paper, tracts for the lovesick,
heartsick, or just plain sick.
A word from God, a telegram
from his office to me.
Like she has a direct wire.
I look to the safari sofa
where you sit on the camelback
hiding in printed fronds
and scenes of blackamoor love. I see
your blank face, lost
on Serengeti plains,
awash in fascination
with life cycles
of the dung beetle.
Without this tiny bug
Africa, land of sausage trees
and strangle figs, wild
and aboriginal,
would die
in a pile
of crap.
I hand her two spent dollars,
ask for blessings,
pray she gets a longer wire.
© 2003 Jason C. Jones