by Laura Eppinger
Picking through my jewellery box
on a day we’re already running
late by hours, I find
traces of you in every scrap
of metal from antique dealers by the shore.
I could put the gold-painted chains to my ear
and hear your heartbeat, instead of the waves.
Running my hands across the cheap
silver clasps
I realise, I will love you until Bellville Station closes
and we have to walk down Kasselsvlie in the dark.
Until the fish shops switch their lights off and then
on again.
I’ll love you till the speakers on the taxi burst
my eardrums, puncture my lungs
so I’m coughing up Rihanna bass lines.
Until all the glass
in my junk shop jewellery turns
to diamond, until
the tuck shop on the corner
sells its last Styvie for the day.
I will love you
till Bellville washes away
with the rest of the Cape, I will
love you.
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