The Jerusalem of Florence

The blood of the Cape
runs through her veins.
The blood of the Cape
runs through my veins but
it doesn't make us kin.
It doesn't make me her daughter.
It doesn't make me her
flesh and blood. I don't
talk to her anymore.
Not the way I used to.
Our relationship just feels
different. She burned
my father's swimming shorts today.
She said the iron was dirty.
I was the one who felt
exposed. Shamed in a way.
The other day she got

into a heated argument
with my mother. I took
my mother's side. My proud,
headstrong and difficult
to get along with mother.
That day I felt exposed
and shamed for no reason
too. Things are different
now I realise. They will
always be different because
of the class system or the
political situation or the
great divide between black
and white, coloured and
Asian. She was like a mother
to me but things like I said
are different between us now.