Botanical Diaspora


I have travelled a globe

For the English Rose

In her cultivated red

Her hint of crimson

My rooinek, my heritage

Painted as a last lesson

Of the afternoon

For an African landscape

Where soils move

In a terroir waltz

Within boundaries fixed

In razor wire.


I am bringing a protea

Hard and tight and

Virtually impenetrable

Across an ocean

Folded in fabric

Armoured feminine

A little bit sticky and

A little bit brash.

Because culture

Has no real borders

And maps are all

But cultivated gardens.



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