The Love I Bear An African Woman

You are my sister,
African woman;
You smell like the ash
Of the mud-house kitchen;
You look like the charcoal
That is left of the wood
That feeds the fire.
I know your tears,
They prick my heart;
Your voice is the sonorous
Silvery attraction
That moves my limbs,
And your breasts attract my
Look and sigh.
I love you, African woman
And if I had money
I would marry you;
Your father is a clan chief
With a big palace in
The village;
Your mother has learnt book
In the modern schools;
All your siblings snub others,
They will snub me too.
I fear, my woman;
I fear to be the fool,
The moron before
Your father's scrutinizing stare,
Your mother's censuring,
Your siblings' reproach.
I refrain from causing you shame,
Pain and longing
For a better bargain.
Look to me then my sister
And tell me;
What is it about me that you love?
My demure, my fear,
My insecurity over everything?
Halt - I know the answer;
You look at
The love I bear you.