The Akandians
The Akandians
live on a tropical Isle
not yet worried by our kind.
They only wear what we would call
briefs, live on coconuts
and pineapples
and race through palms into jungles,
up volcanoes, and back to a lagoon -
all the while laughing and shouting
with joy of wild, wild things.
I've studied them closely
wanting to get closer
to their fragile world.
But each time I approach
they wave at me to stop
and if I continue shout:
we are Akandians,
you are not
you wear clothes,
and want us to wash
when we're playing
in the sea.
live on a tropical Isle
not yet worried by our kind.
They only wear what we would call
briefs, live on coconuts
and pineapples
and race through palms into jungles,
up volcanoes, and back to a lagoon -
all the while laughing and shouting
with joy of wild, wild things.
I've studied them closely
wanting to get closer
to their fragile world.
But each time I approach
they wave at me to stop
and if I continue shout:
we are Akandians,
you are not
you wear clothes,
and want us to wash
when we're playing
in the sea.
This poem is copyright (©) Tristan Moss 2024
About the Writer
Tristan Moss
Tristan lives in York with his partner and two youngish children. Over the past 12 years, he has had many poems published in online and paper magazines, such as Magma, Ink Sweat & Tears, Obsessed with Pipework, Snakeskin, Dreich, Poems in the Waiting Room, London Grip & Shadowtrain. He has recently had a pamphlet published entitled The Cold War (Lapwing Publications).
