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Southern Georgics

By Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah

Artwork “Beach” by Alli Rowe


Skin and clothes fill the tide,

you cannot differentiate them,

the air is still with last notes of a boat,

pulling behind the rocks,

feet disappear from the wet sand.

The yard through September

in the sea is not closed,

I see a lifeboat on the horizon.

I practise directions in colouring.

Love is full of shades

under the roofs of the sea storms,

the latch articulates its structure,

the height of afterglow is reduced

to oppose a tower from your spine.

Between men and locations,

I offer extension on images

from this sea veranda.

I stop at your end

to master my steps

across the sea storms.

The mason exchanges space

for fire, you name the dust,

directing our gaze from your skin

the body unfolds itself

in a gesture of whispering.

We stop to mark the time.

The palm trees along the edges

of our bodies weigh down

in the shadows shifting

forth and back unknowingly,

 

I hide your silence between us

and wait for the night building up.

We burden our skin and clothes,

now exposed, with assembling.


Published inPoetry

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