If I May Be Of Any Use To You Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I come a poet empty handed
As a jug without a handle
Now that I have washed our
Dirty linnen in public. I
Come no Cinderella with a
Golden shoe, but a poet who
Can make rhyme out of the
Bark of tree until the dogs
Of the city begin to bark in
The rhythm of the same song.

If I may be of any use to a
Nation in tatters after the
Likes of the offspring of
Not Abrah and Jacob but Isaac
have done dancing to one tune
Will you join me in a dance
Choreographed by yours sincerely.

For in Africa we dance at parties
Dance at weddings and dance as we
Bury people in the ground. Our dance
Will be made of steps and turns
That can heal a nation and break
The bars of those incarcerated and
Have the join us on one table with
Their offspring on Thanksgiving.

Turkeys will not lie belly up and
Legless thighs in the air in ovens
Glowing but dance in shoes of Ballerinas for one tune composed
By the best musicians the birds
Themselves.

Their beaks will sing wearing Lipstick from heaven rolled of
From the lips of Mary the mother
Of our Lord. I tell you my Credentials before you ask for
If you may find me of any use
Because even though I have crowned
Myself Queen of the tabloids I have
Not seen the advert for a poet.

Don't fear my sharp words for they
Bite only when it is necessary and
Do so in the open, not like today's
Mosquitoes that sting us with the
Usual while they hide the unusual
Like the backstabbers I have seen
In my life with people of the south.

If I may be of anyv use I write
Free verse that makes freedom so
Free it gets written on any hand
That is held out to receive and
Leaves every heart yearning for
A world to call its home. If you may find me useful hire me before you
Accuse me of blowing my own horn
Like the insane unicorn for she
Is known for having charmed the
World blowing the horn on his head
By bending it and blowing it till
The world was forced to wake up
For he had given himself the job
Of the rooster.

Now that I know that the letter
Is in the mail I will rest my
Case and wait. If it does not
Get into my mailbox in time
Know one thing, you are the
Loser for the final dance will
Begin without you. Guess who
Will join the applause, you
For I told you this poet is
One hell of a choreographer.