[tabs tab1=”Poem” tab2=”Poet Bio”]
[tab id=1]Alabaster. I’d always wondered what the word meant.
Alabaster. I thought the word referred to a type of bird, like a seagull of some sort. But I was way off – that’s an albatross. But you might as well have been an albatross because from the moment I laid eyes on you I was doomed.
Cursed by your emerald gaze and sarcastic sneer.
Cursed by the way you dismissed my existence.
An existence that consisted of a tireless longing and endless pining. A pining for your supple shoulders, elegant limbs and silky sugared skin.
Alabaster. That’s how you saw right through my intentions.
Alabaster. My desires were so transparent.
Alabaster. Your bleached-body taut and spine nimble. Oh how you could bend and contort to the touch. Your breath light on my cheek and sweet to the ear.
Whisper, whisper life into these four walls and moan deep into the night.
Alabaster. The lamp’s light reflecting off the sweaty beads on the small of your back.
Alabaster. Your raven-feathered hair wrapped securely around my mocha-coloured hands.
You’re an albatross.
Soaring swiftly through this sea of passion. Albatross.
Circling round and round over head. Albatross.
Your movement so agile and your wings thrusting you higher. Albatross.
Clutch me in your talons and lift me to your heights. Albatross.
Lift me to the apex of human existence. Albatross.
Let me suffocate from anoxia. Albatross.
Send me spiralling to Earth in euphoria. Albatross.
Release me from Damnation. Albatross.
Release me from these fantasies. Albatross.
Acknowledge my desires. Albatross.
You’re my Alabaster Albatross.[/tab]
[tab id=2]Tshepi Makhatha was born in Mthatha, Eastern Cape. He matriculated from St. Peter’s College in 2009 and graduated from Rhodes University with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English Literature and Psychology. He currently resides in Johannesburg with his half-brother and hopes to pursue writing as a full-time career.[/tab]