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Mar 292015
 

by Shittu Fowora

 

Sitting, the dreams on my nose,

lead the streams of my flow.

 

Incense, I follow the cue through auld langsyne

when boys were still naughty as kittens.

 

Tree branches, we jaunted to and swung

like excited mangoes in windstorm.

 

Hilltops, where only boy-warriors dared a climb,

every other reluctant boy was thought a girl.

 

There are ones who tasted their wee

first at five until their Science instructors called it

‘poison’

Some at ten,and some now, at fifty

–to each one, his age of unveiling.

 

Freewheeling, two little lads face a hole

testing their pee prowess in the sand.

 

Seething,Tunji suffered a riot

of internal dialogues,

knew what his uncle did

to other boys,

he shamed and fumed, ignored.

 

A girl hid, in her mother’s room

thrust a twig into that place

and tasted earwax for the first time, at six.

 

Blood? At Eleven, some didn’t.

they secretly stood before mirrors

and probed. Some? Never.

 

Jerks. No, not all were such

some had tasted mucus,

sucked in phlegm

pinched grime

imbibed sputum

swallowed tom-tom

counted ten while tasting tears

felt pain in vain

feigned unknowing, at adults

thus numb to ache of a certain hue

even unfeeling again to pain.

 

Lantana, that one had a thing of glum

doesn’t play with no one at twelve

doesn’t smile. Keeps face like Hades

she’d been denied the ability to experience pleasure

doesn’t cry tears, doesn’t moan….just sighs, silently.

 

Your soft palms feels woody

on her nape,all hopes of play fly

your “I love yous” are wasted,

too rusty for her to be aroused by your coo

 

There were no bad girls then,

only unlovable ones

they noed to everything

you yesed to. Distraught!

 

They are not to blame:

hurt men hurt men and women

hurt women too…

your honey and milk,

prayers and affection tastes same way

tastes as water in the memory of their tongues.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* Anhedonia: psychological condition causing an inability to experience pleasure.