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You’re in the frenzy business around the kitchen.
You’re presently mixing tomato with celery
Or, you’re turning semo, or dishing, or maybe
You’re somewhere under a lamp deeping

Your being into the heritage of former scholars.
And here, I rest my back on my wall, on my bed
But lost in a rocket bound for an unknown part
Of space, but your image on this glossy android screen

Is my compass, speedometer, thermometer and
My spaceman glass. I am lost into this picture. Your
Teeth of ivory, shy still behind the lusty lovy lips.
The eyeballs sitting as queens under those beckoning

Folds of brows. If you raise them to me in vexation,
I still will melt for ’em. And you’re black, and it settles
On the foreskin of my sea wave passion. I wish, right
Now, my eyes are in that pot, or that you meet me by the

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Cabinet as you frenzy to stove from table. I wish you
See me now, that your mind is divided between table
Dressing and making haste to my arms spread out
Like a political billboard. But it ain’t political; it’s real.

 

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Image by Phil Campbell via Flickr

About the Author:

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is a Nigerian scholar and writer. His poems have appeared in Ann Arbor Review Sankofamag, Bravearts Africa, Ijagun Poetry Journal, the Literary Yard, etc. Some of his works are also on his blog dejidesoyemi.wordpress.com