Moon-things or (for Vivian)

I

Two seeds in a pod may not be friends

for one may sit rotten to alter the other

yet I have known you as a seed, a-twin.

We have lain on a bench on the beach

quizzing the euphony of the ocean;

listening to Brahms as waves clasp

we shared giggling splashes of water,

our breaths travel, they ride the shores.

As night falls deepens our talks

Moon-things littered our mind

We ignore time departing

With back against the wind, sea splashes,

salt and sand into our hair,

I feel you around me. Nerves sleep.

II

What is it to become the breath of rainfall

and horse one’s hooves against derelict roofs

against the tarred roads where all are gone

So that the drops and splashes become life

on drooping leaves and worn-down trees

the glitter of the droplets against sunlight

In July; when diamond comes as shiny puddles

where hope foretells harvest in coming seasons

then the whistling of men journey with rainfall

What is the sound of the wind when happy

That keeps forlorn stuttering as desert storms

Keeping the land spare of intended dwellers

But you my friend have sorted your dreams

Into raincoats, umbrellas and transitory shelters

You take a mouthful of air and live as a maker. 

III

My silences walk into the waters seeking peace;

I was seeing nothing

your voice sprang up in chimes of even tone

ignoring the distance my eyes walked

It is neither night nor morning, evening is off

the time of the day in Labadi beach

when Accra swears on wet bikinis and boxers

and in some cases nude bosoms and buttocks.

Flying sands cling to roast fish and chips

And as waiting tourists

You and I munch together like we’re home

Breaking oaths of borders and distances.