Women With Flesh
BY: RENE BREANA LIPE ANKRAH
'21 year old poet, Ghanaian and a woman of colour.'
BY: RENE BREANA LIPE ANKRAH
'21 year old poet, Ghanaian and a woman of colour.'
In heat of sweaty nights,
and a rumbling stomach of lust filled gazes,
Dontae chased skirts and tasted forbidden apples.
A young man chasing shadows
across dimly lit bars,
and motel floors
The flesh craves the flesh
and the nights are a haze
of sighs and moans
Bodies entwined like yarn and vines in the dark
And the women weep tears that fall on a bed none of them will stay long enough to see
dry
But Dontae grows weary
And the flesh tires
The years pile like dirty laundry in a corner
Dontae no longer young, finds the pursuit of flesh an empty hollow game
The women still come and go
Leaving behind red laced panties
But their touch no longer ignites the fire he once had
The bars grow darker and the motels more sordid
And he wonders if there was ever a time where love was more than 20 minutes
between sweat soaked sheets and temporary pleasure.