A moment with Stephen King

A Poem

By Mandlenkosi Phakathi

Black lines on white roads
have learned to carry us home,
through words seen
said in mind’s scenes,
scents of adventure
that carry thick danger,
centred in hope,
a tight rope
that saviour will carry us home,
we learn when in Rome.

Coloured screens
have guided our visions,
as moving pictures
capture mind’s eye,
in round trips
that keep our feet still,
pupils glued to moving light,
like class to chalk,
till the fat lady sings.

In a world that rotates
around the sun
how do we stay still?
when motion
is at our fingertips,
we don’t need gauntlets
to snap ourselves across the globe,
there are apps for that.

Today I travelled
to December 1997 according to Stephen King,
for brief moments I sat with him
under the eave in his study,
I felt the cold snow
through the Cape’s sun,
I recreated his voice
in my mind,
after years of smoking
I imagine
it would carry a phlegmy rasp.

He led me to a caged rabbit
with an 8 on its back,
sadly life carried me back
to the Cape’s shores before I heard more,
maybe I’ll fit a trip back to him
before sleep calls.