Barren Poem by Hillfigure Sackey

The sun, the moon, the stars which dwell within the globe

Names of nature’s eternally rounded perfection

What I’m I then but a square

Devoid of my neighbour’s circular perfection

Most complain about being just a concubine that delivers

Every blessed and infuriating day I want and want till

my shrivelled, withered dried up womb shy’s away

i want to be that concubine.

Darkened, green with growth,

What I’m i then but a square without an Offspring, to want

to be of spring and glow brighter than the sun with perfection

but locked within this traitorous shell; my outer layers green with growth

but underneath veils a closed womb diseased with a label “never bore”

and breasts which will never nurse

Why have you forsaken me, roughened with corners instead of the circular bliss I crave the most?