Friday, August 25
THE ALMOST LOVE POEM OF ELOISE AND KOFI When Eloise tells Kofi she wants a divorce, he sits naked on the kitchen floor skinning an ox tongue to prepare Eloise’s favorite dish. Blood trickles down his fingers onto the floor. This is not in my head, in my head the bruised organ is in the hands of Eloise and she almost loves Kofi. What a strange word, almost. I look at the rain clouds and they almost seem to stagger. When did I last have a drink? My stomach feels heavy and a urinous smell stays where Kofi sits naked. So what if Eloise wants a divorce? She is made of stubbornness. Kofi is not thinking about the ox as he marinates its tongue in a basin of tomato juice. Eloise stands there, insisting on a divorce as the blood mixes into the tomato juice. A pause. Kofi has a chance to recover his patience and pull it over himself. They have many times pressed their bodies together and peeled them apart—elation. Love is a wretched, wretched thing. Eloise wishes Kofi would put down the tongue and say something. (Brian Gyamfi)