Motherland, go figure

“Come, sister” said the priest
urging me to follow his lead
But I couldn’t.
It was that time of the month
and my gran said No.
So did the faith.
I was relieved, glad, to not have to bathe
in the sweat of thousands
pretending
bleating
with the rest of the flock
as though she would heal me.

We sat in the van at the roadside,
outside   the cemetery
exclusively
for children and babies
it haunted me for the duration of our wait there

But we ventured out
We entered a bar full of men and exited promptly with a Thums Up!
We sat and talked to the man with the lemons
as though we’d known him all our lives

She hung up her huge brightly coloured suits
on the trees
paving the street
like they were own washing line.

Surreal
Yet so not.