Ride me like I’m Wiz Khalifa

 

I take your legs and fold em up //I take my time, I break it down

//I tell you not to make a sound —Wiz Khalifa

 

the trees bend to the wind

& i see a woman—legs folding back.

 

a shadow falls on the church wall & it is a woman—

lips parted, tongue out—calling my name

with a holy tongue.

 

sometimes i want to have sex but instead i say—

can i see you? are you free? meet me. where?

but whom can I say this to (but the trees)

 

& will not look at me like an abominable thing?

imagine Khalifa, folding your legs up

&—

 

say he stands behind you, your toes touching the floor

your palms squeezing the bedsheets, sweat trickling

down your unmade face.

 

your vibrating moans sync with your legs—

as his fingers find their way on the map of your body,

like explorers finding their way to the treasure cave.

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say—i am your Khalifa. say, last night you rode

me to come. your head, up & blessing the Lord, so

you couldn’t see how my shoulder blades  move

 

in & out my flesh & sweat oils my body & yours.

see, sometimes—i want to be the wind

bending the trees & swaying them into moans.

 

i want to be touched, i want to be asked—

i want, i want—i am a ball of desire too,

ride me to come, suck, swallow me—unmade lover.

 

***

 

Henneh Kyereh Kwaku has poems, micro-prose and essays published or forthcoming in Tupelo Quarterly, New South Journal, Three Drops Press, Ghana Writes, Lunaris Review, Kalahari Review, Praxis Magazine, Agbowó and elsewhere. His chapbook Revolution of the Scavengers comes out in 2020 as part of the boxset New-Generation African Poets: SABA, published by the African Poetry Book Fund and Akashic Books. He holds a Bachelor of Public Health degree in Disease Control from the University of Health and Allied Sciences. He is from Gonasua in the Bono Region of Ghana.

Categories: Poetry

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