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.