Poetry by Afua Awo Twumwa

at Suhum there were no curtains
all the years we let the wind come
& go how it wanted to

we watched curtains pulled apart in the Philippines
the screen filling our eyes
& we thought

the luxury of not needing air outside of yourself
the pity of not knowing how it feels
to bare your body for the rush of cold winds

now, in Accra
in this new room I draped in heavy curtains

the air must still be outside of me
all these years & I am waiting for the wind,
body bared.


One grandmother has a passport. One grandmother does not have a passport.

To pass her fingers through
Dream of lands far from home
Plot an escape
Become the woman of foreign smell

Afua Awo Twumwa is an accountant, and a writer, and has a keen interest in the performing arts. Her works have appeared in Tampered Press, Kalahari Review, AFREADA, and some anthologies. Find her on all socials @awotwumwa.