Mouima Poem by Zyw Zywa

The aftertaste of sweet

is bitter, I know
yes I do, but

I have no energy
and I always want

all kind of things, but then
I stroll here on the market

in Marrakech, fair-haired
chatting with a mummy

and then I want to live
like a mummy for my dear body

in harmony with onions
carrots, wind, and sun

my mouth honourable
for my stomach, everything

that is good, just that, come
cook with me, eat with me

give me what I need
give me the Force