How to cook.
Recipes scribbled on torn sheets.
How-Tos for Egusi soup and Ila Asepo.
Cigarette rolls of marriage insurance
squirreled away in old-school jars of Horlicks
Letters spelled with longing.
Fading oil spots mark where floral scents once rose
German stamps that drew envious giggles
The heady feeling raunchy cartoons can bring.
Peeping Toms in makeshift bathrooms
painting early portraits of suffering, smiling people
with heads buried in the sand
Nackson. Ikebe Super
side by side tracts that promised the fiery furnace
-Brimstone for readers of evil material.
I picked a side.
Images I could fathom and yet not comprehend.
white lingerie I couldn’t envision her in
Black and white photos
Men that looked almost translucent,
holding almost violently,
women with hair cascading past button breasts.
I learnt her love of these pretty dolls
From fiery headed tutors on Harlequin front covers,
gifting strange aches that I welcomed.
The promise of sweet escape
from heavy treading that terrorized silent corridors.
The art of Silence.
The rewards of Submission.
Putting your dreams on the back burner
watching him pursue his.
Going Pro at believing your own lies.
Absolute dedication to the service of Man.
The graven image propped by the pillar, Culture.
To master every hurt that womanhood would convey
a lesson underneath my Mother’s mattress.