You are heavier

You are heavier (having eaten), pressing on my thighs, warming my womb from the outside; not so long ago it was yours—warming you. Your legs flailing, on either side, the constant rubbing of love; bent over old soft paper you design your world. The dark dense downy barbs on your head that always smell  ...

Tips to avoid Failure (in Scientific Writing or Life)

You: Woman (in Science!) Begin with the Figure: Perfectly ordered As though ordained. Shhh: Respect the narrative, No negatives, Be neutral. Only briefly discuss Limitations. Focus Your priorities: Strategic choices. Remember peers Love a success story, With a bonne chance For reproduction. The poem gives advice to woman scientists on how to be Accepted in...

It is all in the mind

I finished reading Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook (1994) a few days back. The book now rests on my desk, with many of its pages dog-eared and multiple lines of text underlined in different colours. (When I want to mark a portion of text that has had a significant impact on me, I grab the...

First comes craft, then poem

I’ve been finding it difficult to write poems. It’s not for a lack of inspiration; life is full of strange and moving moments that are suited to poetry. I feel them intensely, and there is intent—both of which are needed to write a poem—but then, my words just don't sound or sit right (if I...

‘Hymn to Evil’ gives hope

Poetry heals me. It does so by letting me dissect my state of being through shiny, sharp word scalpels: Cutting open a wound in this case can be just as curative as sealing it. Recent events, not to mention the hell of a ride we all are on, made me want to read a poem...

The Letting-Go

The young man shivered violently as he came up for air. The stream was cold, with a slow, but not sluggish, current. Orange winter sunlight reflected over the clear water that foamed delicately around boulders. The air was still. Birds sang busily. The young man and his uncles, who were standing on the bank, had...

Signs – Part 1

I felt a pressure on my waist for a fraction of a second – just four fingers pressing gently against my blouse. It is a sensitive spot. I quickly turned around with a tiny shriek, to find no one there. My 22-month-old was at my feet, playing with plastic cups and steel tumblers; my husband,...

Vow to Behold – a poem on a lasting friendship

Girlhood period boys -- Minor complaints Weighed heavy Like dew on white snowdrop Caressing memories Comforting echoes of life lived Reckless wanting Womanhood womb woes (men) -- Now we are talking Grown-up stuff Made easy, forgivable, enjoyable Still your shriek shrill thrills Ears fill with electric talk Starts stops self-doubt Crushing living burdens Us, we...