My Father
Beneath the secret layers of your life
that you hid yourself under, Beneath
the fading curtains, the dusty
carpets, the tapestries.
Beneath the jumble
sale philosophies
you aspired to
for a week
or two
Beneath
the cortisone
and the chemo
that kept you alive
long after you were
supposed to die, Beneath
all that Was your Doornfontein
Black Hole Heart And your bottle
of All Gold Tomato Sauce
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