These crazy thoughts travelled
And have come on extensive visits
In pencilled heels
Walking on the noisy tiles of my mind
What will I lack?
If I heap these suckers
Into tiny holders like an attractive stall
And cut low these clothes
To show this flat flowery haired stomach
Making saliva scarce in the mouths of modest men
And causing panic in the scrotums of perverts?

What will I lack?
If I strip these bottoms
And leave them gay
To dance in tights
To tease and lure hands with life
As magnet attracts pins
And make their third legs
Push aside their common sense
To create for me a smooth path?

What will I lack?
If these legs taunt in heels
In strikes that can bring down kings
And burn queens in jealous rage
While these hands hold the confidence
In calculated moves
With a killer smile
Which flirts with the eye?

This needed hole won’t get filled
This sought after thing
Has no metre
This nectar just dries with time
And when it finally falls cold
Moths penetrate only to disintegrate
What will I lack?
Oh what will I lack
When I put all these to use?
Isn’t flaunting the law of the moment
The thoughts of men
And the easy way to all that is fancy?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

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