Everyone loves to hold me
to quench their thirst.
I am long and can stretch within your family.
I’ve witnessed the many generations
holding meetings in my oval.
the women who pout their mouths for their first kiss.
I am a lineage,
always used like the word ‘use’.
In my dreams, I am a wire between lovers,
a friend to the moon, and a relative to everyone.
men fight for me
children rush for me.
I am a billet-doux for a writer in these parts
a reminder the village cannot hold talks without my family.
if I had eyes, it will be sore,
for the people have hurt me and held me and hurt me and stretched me
and some days I could just snap!
blind my cul-de-sac room so I’m treated with respect.
in all of these, I am writing to you
as the umbilical cord
and a friend to the well.
no shalaye me as I don come your house.
I am no different