A Curve in the Tell

There is a curve

deeply seated in their tell

of how things that must be

are;

of how the bird

instead of flying

hops

and becomes no longer

a bird

but a frog.

I cannot see

with borrowed eyes

or think

with(in) a mind not mine

but must unity's quest

merge all selves

into a homogenous consistency

such that you curve

the tale of your tell?

when our survival

is only insured

through gene-crossing

at conception point?

So you cal me this-and-that

for refusing to be

you...

There is a curve

in your tell.

copyright by Nana Fredua-Agyeman

It's been a long time since I last posted a poem of mine here.