Xhosa women in clothes too light
for the weather have brought wild flowers
and sit sloped along the Claremont road.
I see her through rolled windows,
watch her watch me to decide if I’ll pay.
It’s South Africa, after all, after apartheid;
but we’re still idling here, my car to her curb,
my automatic locks to her inadequate wage.
by Susan Rich
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Susan Rich
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on For Sale
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem For Sale here.