seeking the sultry delights of the chevron of your golden thighs
that gleam against brown sheets like the Abeokuta sunrise
I still hold the taste of you from the last time
on my tongue like an unspoken promise
Ọ̀rẹ́, where the walls have ears, secrets become mouthed songs
Songs that only the initiated know the dance to
& In that garden of concealed meanings, metaphors and parables bloom
Akanni, I have sung songs, where is your dance?
One of them is between a queen’s thighs
& Another is behind the dark curtains of death
The shadows grow longer and the grey clouds journey home
And now the madman seeks the sanity of privacy
Gingerly, he gathers his belongings
And abandons his perch at the market’s T-junction
Giddily, he falls in step with us
