(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