Ayitey had always taught his sons that a woman’s place was the kitchen
He had good sons who heeded their father’s advice
So when his wife died
from slaving herself away in marriage with a useless man,
We half-expected him to die next
For his sons did not know their way to the kitchen
And he was a proud man who couldn’t beg another for food
But, it’s been seven years now and the widower still lives
And then we realised
if you looked at the right time,
there was smoke from his kitchen
And when you listened closely, you could hear him pounding,
and heaving loudly as he did
And so now we know that, though he’ll never admit it
He was as much a woman as his late wife
Nuerkey Narh
YOU ARE READING
Alone in the dark
Poetrysimply poetry by no means finest not at all poorest written lazily for your cheering, me, gratifying
