Poetry by Afiah Obenewaa
Tomorrow I will phone my white-skinned brother.
In my dream I forget to remember. He is a dark-skinned
soul trapped in sheaths of white. In my dreams.
I will tell him I won the Colour Pageant.
I will tell him I now own hearts. And command commitments.
On the other side,
My brother will listen tenderly, and in that acquired sly accent of his,
I know you will. I know.
It is a game we play. Everyday.
I pretend to reach across the waves.
To re-tie long severed ties.
I pretend to understand.
He pretends to communicate.
Afiah Obenewaa is a writer living and working in Accra. Most of her works have focused on the musings of ‘ordinary people.’ She believes they are the real creators of magic. Some of her works have appeared in online literary magazines like ‘The Mamba,’ ActiveMuse’, ‘Floral Literary Magazine,’ among others.
Originally published November 15, 2023