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(Writing > Poetry)




I lost a poem.

context texture

Mind you,

the last time I had it with me

was on the corner of

Jellicoe and Oxford, turning

right. I thought I had stuffed it

into my bag of memory,

but this morning

when I looked for it

scratched amongst

the paper slips, receipts and echoes

of yesterdays conversations and thoughts –

I just. could. not. find it.


Can’t put my finger on it

in this wordless pit of grime

that collects at the bottom of my knowing.


Mind full.


Chewey sweets and

broken endearmints, glossy coins,

shadowed eyes

pigment scattered everywhere


Who’s to say what it was worth?

the Nobel or the Nothing?

Was it stillborn loss or merely menstruation?

Is it now a blessing or a curse

ghosting about, seeking its maker?


Thought I would clear things out,

allow it rise again, but

it’s not in the emptiness

of yoga either, even though I


stretch and stretch


no mind


sweat dripping on the mat


no mind


breath on my tongue,


no mind


Ohmmmm in my throat.

oh my


All I can remember is

that I lost it

and that there was

a scrap of sense

to it.




by Anni Snyman, Johannesburg, South Africa

u July 7, 2009, author: Anni Snyman

All work is under a Creative Commons Copyright Licence.