that person who gives you
your first in anything
is a kind of first love
buried inside you
that memory will never breath
without first giving that person life
in the morning. in the evening. in the afternoon.
at night. at dawn. at midnight
and you know the thing about memory
that thing is memory isn’t a book you hate
can burn, pour ashes into the toilet bowl and flash
then the memory becomes part of any other thing
the sea. the ocean. the atlantic.
whatever thing which doesn’t live inside of you
doesn’t call your name
lure you into another time
and leaves your heart burning
do you remember
how love was a candy between your fingers
on a pole belonging only to you
do you remember how you licked
you licked and there was always more left
and then there was nothing left?
© Awo Twumwaah 2018.
Afua Awo Twumwa 