To Julia in the supermarket
Ah strange, distant and beautiful woman,
pushing a trolley down an avenue of tins,
a child in tow, a shopping list in hand,
how much I adore the curve of your waist,
the sway of your body, the pause, the turn
and reed-quick bending to one side of you.
Let me pile your trolley with new-baked rolls
and fill your arms with artichokes and wine,
let me explain that thinking you elsewhere
but finding you here has torn the membrane
that custom and routine thickens in my eyes
and through the fissure burst, as at the first,
the whole breathing, talking, hurrying, laughing,
soft-lipped, warm-hipped, red-scarfed woman of you.
from Home from Home: New and selected Poems (Cape Town: Echoing green Press, 2012)