Poetry: “Old Man (IN JOHANNESBURG)” by Rory Kilalea

There’s a sensuous quality to Rory Kilalea’s poem, “Old Man (In Johannesburg)” and it evokes some of the descriptions of Asia found in Jenny Xie’s Eye Level. Kilalea is minimal in his descriptors but “breathing sex and / neon” has the simple and straightforward effectiveness that sometimes feels necessary when we are hit from every angle by a vicious and competitive kind of lyricism. Kilalea has a tendency to repurpose words—we see him use “hissing” in a totally new way in the third and fourth lines of the poem, but his confidence in the new usage, and the context he provides, allow for this kind of experimental approach to language. His line breaks are also often jarring and seem disjointed, but they reflect the stutter-stop of nightlife, the emergence of certain shady figures trying to suss out friendlies, safety, trust, even help of some kind. The paranoia is paralleled with desperation, need, and desire. This speaker can move in and out of this world, observe its shine and its tarnish, then slip away, and this kind of duality is the power of the voice. The final lines are mocking, but they also relay the power of the underclass the speaker seems to insult. The speaker is trying to justify their own presence in this liminal space, and in their outburst, they shown their own vulnerability, their own stakes in self-perception and curiosity and their access. Power can mean many things. Kilalea is showing us many angles if we just take the time to look.