ask me of my love for her
and I will tell you about
the smallest of things in the smallest of moments – things of and about her:
the neat fold of her lithe limbs and the coil of her frame, when
the tides began to shed
their quiet leaps and bright tenors for one loud void and ashen shrill.
the blank and wet on her face as she
gazed into nothingness, when I told her it can’t possibly
rain and pour, roar and pain without end – and not without her will to up and on still.
the sharp arching of her left brow,
once when I had asked her what she thought of
hopes and dreams going stale, then sour, with one wait after more waste…
the knotting of her smile on one tip of her tiny thick lips,
when I told her that Sun showed up and sweet – and generously so –
after what, until now, tasted like forever.
the sudden coming of her pointless mischiefs,
the unpredictable turn of her next funny thing – in the middle of
what should be, what has been anything but play, anything but a joke.
the easy, lucid recklessness of her waist, as
she danced away to that silly song she knew was silly but
she loved like mad and silly and all – all the same, and with no shame at all.
the sweep and setting of her hips in a gait
which defies name, which transcends walk, which dances
to its own song – when I make way, as I’m wont to, for her to go before me…
the lush and soul of the life and presence in her eyes when
she begins and soon gets happily lost in
a World where Words and Water and Wonder and such and similar live and thrive…
ask me about
the smallest of things in the smallest of moments – things of and about her
and I will only begin tracing the form and frame of Love – my Love for and of her.
– Morning of Monday, 21st June 2021: Legon, Accra.
* ‘Niibii Bibii‘ is Ga for ‘Little Things’, as in, the not-exactly little things because of which we love, we laugh – we live…