snapshot: dawn in dar es salaam
our intimacy is as subtle as the mottled shade of shell colors
on a warm basket of cayenne scented boiled crabs
or, more likely, the faint hint of spearmint tea
silently seeping while your attention is turned
to spreading the beige soft of cashew butter across
the crisp of one slice of toasted sourdough
which innocently rests near the dark
of seeded unsugared strawberry jam freshly smeared
atop the face of the bread's twin — quiet contentment
is morning within our colorful kitchen where we are
as gaily nude as the golden gleam of early light
streaming through our window diagonally impressing
a translucent tattoo onto both the half sphere of your breast
& the upraised arm of my hand reaching to caress
—kalamu ya salaam