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By | 1 September 2024

is not what you arrived at:
fluid, it moves lava in a lamp
shapes change pieces of time
breaking through –

the spaces of remembering dark
underground for years –
now unpeeled accretions
of memory – hard and lonely

yet familiar: you reach into
the straight streets bleak
like brittle cracked leather
the edges of suitcases you didn’t pack –

memory a finding again of losing –
the sadness was there black lives
crushed like leaves –
each day they’d place
one foot in front of the other.

How much we did or did not do –
eyes averted to the ground
not seeing their faces
as we passed –
holding the boundaries
of our bodies too close.

Home: what was lost, yet known,
roads, pavements, houses
built only in designated
White Group Areas the outer fences
obscure as smoked glass maps unseen,
the legal prose of Ordinances –

Acts of declaration: this is how the spaces
of the country will be allocated –
ratios of tens to thousands
the widest planes, the richest rock and water,
trees, the mountains in purple light –
given to the minority –

a home unmerciful –
white power tearing
at its own skin the itch
of not belonging.



Influenced by David Goldblatt’s photographs in his published photo essay ‘In Boksburg,’ which includes extracts from the relevant
South African Group Areas Act of 1961; and the exhibition ‘Dreamhome’ AGNSW, August 2023.

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