JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Rondavels bask in rows

laid out under peeling Jacarandas

their dark thatch haircuts

top white walled faces

door, two windows

small back porch

complete their postcard symmetry

 

And look

another interesting badge they wear

flanking chipped washbasins

are old model fridges

all reversed, their fronts pushed

jam against porch walls

a row of wiry backs grin out

as if some safari orthodontist

has recently visited

 

Puzzled we turn out fridge round

right way, pack it with

food, fruit, still warm

from a day’s drive

over Kruger’s sandy roads

 

While unpacking clothes

into a simple wooden closet

we become aware of commotion

outside and there on our porch

a family of monkeys have

opened the fridge door and

are throwing the contents,

peaches, apples and the rest

from hand to outstretched hand

across sandy yard, up branches

scurrying, grinning, chewing

jumping over each other

to get some more like guests

at a wedding feast

 

The note, we find later

under a bible in a bedside drawer:

Dear guest, please protect your

provisions from monkeys by securing

your refrigerator with rope or

by turning its door to face the wall