Poetry | 04:42

Words by Jemima Meyer. Image by Niamh Walsh-Vorster.

I didn’t believe the man who beat me
that the next one would do so too. I fled
to the streets searching for him. He smiled
at first, but I must’ve said something
to remind him of his childhood, for he broke
gutter pipes from the insides of his guts
and cracked them on my back. I squirmed
each time I felt his arm retract for the next
lash and streams of rancid rain
that filled the cracks. Halfway
awake, I kept wincing in bed though
I told my body it’s far from reality. Stop
twitching, think of rainbows –
my brother’s hugs, how my dad cuts
fruit salad for us each morning at exactly 6:30.

Jemima Meyer (1997-) is a dietitian whose ideal diet consists of analysing, appreciating and philosophising. She hopes that scribbles of poetry and shades of music will eventually shape meaning. Her poems have been published in various journals such as New Contrast, Botsotso, Kalahari Review, Litnet, and Ons Klyntji.