Written by Everest Udochukwu
When we met, you were a dove cooing under a downpour. Your body was an unstitched surgery, your heart was honeycombed by your past. The paws of absconders had mauled my backdoors to murals. But I gave you an asylum balconied with roses, where you slid my windows open to see vistas of new beginnings. To make you the caretaker of things you wanted untouched, I became a tenant in my own abode, begging for a chunk of things I had extra. I hadn’t come to you but you asked me to sacrament our bodies. I became the tongue of a guilty kid, overwhelmed by platter of things I wished from you in sealed lips and transfixed limbs. We sunned our mornings in the perfume of a flower garden. Onyxes gleamed and our tongues swam when we warmed our nights in blankets of our flesh, knowing there would never be a yesterday. Now you’ve made me a winner of my losses. Now you’re the oath I take when I hold a staff, why have you become a well and why do outsiders draw you dry when I’m on the road, Laide?