My first taste of Africa, starting at the tip.

Full Moon

You are a world in a

Man, you are my heart in

My hand and my stomach

In a cup that can never

Be drained, you warm up

My soul with your pulse,

Your nostrils and your breaths,

Every hair that moves

On your face is lucky to be

Born near a warmth so

Keen it could run rings around

Me after circling the moon.

Thought from the Verge

Thread me a moon
Through your ear
To my heart
Booming – that irregular
Jump – start tune.

Sink my flutter
Deep in the velvet
Depths of our kinned psyches,
Twinned by Chance
Across split wombs.

Crop my vagaries
Sage them trim.
With your sharp –
Wit – reason, order
My din into sound –
Bunked rhymes, chimes
Ringing, deft
In time.