AT THE SEASHORE Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali

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The money-laden landlubber

sneezes out the gold dust 

rising like a cloud

from the mine dump.

He scurries

to the coast 

like a rabbit from hounds;

books as the beachfront hotel,

sits in the sun,

rolls on the sandy carpet 

woven with beads of seashells;

and turns into a statue 

of bronzed biceps.

The seal breeze

wafts a spray

of air into lungs

heavy with cobwebs

of cigar smoke.

The ear listens

to the waves 

singing a lullaby:

'The sea O the sea, 

to soothe the soul

of the surfeited pleasure-seeker.'

His eye jumps into life 

to devour the body

of a bikini girl

cavorting like a mare 

looking for a stallion

The day end

at the patio of the hotel 

where a waiter

grins through thick lips, 

bringing ice cold beer

for the master and missus.

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