Money Tins & The Milky Way

(i)
do you remember our cave &
the money tin full of dreams
sitting in the bush
crafting our souls
among ant sand
and the crumbs of Dutch Rusks

one birthday we rode pillion
on your Dad’s motorbike
and music was playing
“we wanna get out of this place”

and you did. arms spread
like a cruising turtle
both heavy and light in high school’s dapples
and my small jealous heart
beat a little hollow
at the base of my throat
when you had more time for boyfriends
than for me


(ii)
in this green microcosm
heated as a threat
shade like treacle
holding up the ladders

orange felt globes
doubled in white buckets'
plastic shine

I'm there in the packing shed
until the hail comes
crashing through fruit
and insect swarms

I run into it, colliding with a dog
an afternoon with gravel in my knee


(iii)
a woman dances
    in summer twilight

                                Osibisa
                    Ghanaian beats

                    liquid warm
                    and fetal

her daughter 
dances too


(iv)
a packet of cells
and I’m their Milky Way
do they gaze outward, 
their Universe a wonder?

Written for NAPOWRIMO Day #21 :

“Today’s (optional) prompt is one I got from the poet Betsy Sholl. This prompt asks you to write a poem in which you first recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question.”

To go with part (iii): Woyaya by Osibisa