Company

Warm Ngqushu

and then the container of maize bread,

pot-baked, were laid out on the staff-room table.

“The thing,” she said, “about our rural places

is home grown food: the flour for this bread

was ground on a flat stone.”

She told of its soft declivity,

from years of human work, milling maize . . . .

“And how I’ve always longed,”  I said,

“for just such a stone, flat and dipped concave

from grinding corn to eat,

for I would love one in my garden,

to cup the rainwater I offer to the birds .  . .”

“But,” she said, “You don’t get it, it seems.

These are not for gardens, nor for birds:

these stones, these old stones,

are for our work. They are our machines.”

 - Brian Walter