Evaluating passion in six movements.
Come and eat me, says the text
That strolled into my phone from yours.
In no time, I am at the door, waiting
To partake in the forthcoming breaking of the bread.
We begin by touching ourselves softly,
& then by slowly unfurling our clothes.
Your straps gave way, slowly, light poured
I confess that your body transcended
As the glossolia engulfed you whilst
My tongue torched your clits —God was in this place.
Later, I began to ache
into you and you Into me.
I called your name several times
From behind. Each time, you answer,
Matching my rhythm.
Soon, paradise overtakes us
& we descend heaving
in that darkness.
It is morning, our brown bodies lay
clustered in fellowship. If tomorrow forbids us,
forget my name
but not the testament our body holds.
Pèlúmi Sàlàkọ́ was born on a Sunday in January. He writes from North Central, Nigeria where he studies. His writings have appeared or are forthcoming in Jacarpress, Ngiga Review, the rising Phoenix review, elsewhere. He co-edits the Zango Review. He tweets @Salakobabaa