Wind the string tight against the curving wood ring after perfect ring
climbing from the strong pin to just below the burnished shoulders taking me back to Soweto
Grasp me tightly, paying attention to the proper curl of the fingers, the grip on the string the deft confident throwing and the quick snap back
to a playground in a dusty township bare black footprints in the earth spinning me round, whirling grains of dust aside in a miniature pirouette of colors
Flicking stones into a sandy circle others watch him from the corners of their hungry eyes watch him pocket me walk to the station twenty sinewy years later board the train where the tsotsies roam the swaying corridors scanning for tell-tale bulges my heart bulging and pounding inside my coat
The gaudy newspaper reported twenty years and one uneventful day later at the foot of a side column on page three, the previous days tally
of murders, muggings thefts and rape there’s nothing personal about this brother it’s all in an afternoon’s work this time they got a colored top to take home for the kids
