The gift of giving

wilting treesand houses built on sinkholeslost traditions, andblood lines soaking into the eartheating away at the long-forgotten corpses of our lineagebroken mirrors holding disfigured reflectionsof little brown girlswith twisted mouths and charred fingertipsthese rest on creaky floor boardsand against old wooden wallsdraped in white sheetsbooks with no spinespages out of order and words that don’t

Nobody loves you when you’re down

These diseases make you unlovable Nobody loves me when I’m down. And can only see the swarm of darkness closing in on me. My eyes must look so small and bloodshot—fighting to see through bright flashes of light: alarms that never snoozed, constant and jarring. Nobody recognizes me when I’m breaking. Code, character, promise, or

Breathless

I lost my breath.

Feet of my father

Late night musings

Growth

Poem about depression.

Yearning

This is a “Poem of the Day” feature piece The cacti budding beneath my skinNever let me restTheir prickly stems poke me everywhereA hum so consistent it registers as a second heartbeatI have built a sturdy home around the source of itFor the nerves to go and buzzWhen they are bursting against the wallsItching for

Careless (tentatively)

This is a “Poem of the Day” feature piece Why are lovers so careless with meSo oblivious to my feelingsAnd sensitivities Like my words lessen in power when fallingOn their earsAnd I’m wrong for hearing the full vibrato Of what another’s got to sayI never was fondOf being treated like a—A afterthought and/or a tag-a-longIdling

5 – Endings

From the Numbered Collection I can’t stay hereWith youYou can’t hold my handWhile my house burns down around us bothFlames do not know good from badThey can not discernDead from alive Me from you © Ama Akoto (2018)

4 – Winding Paths

From the Numbered Collection SomewhereAlong the road my parents forgedI took a misstepOnto a path where chaos reigns

3 – Darkness

From the Numbered Collection Won’t you take me as yours?Wrap me in your cloakAnd tell my loved onesThat you’ll keep me safeFrom myself © Ama Akoto (2018)