Nkem

The last time I saw Nkem,

his tongue was in my mouth

it moved in ways that echoed things

our lips would never make into words

the things we weren’t allowed to do

but we did

we did everything but spoke of nothing

we had conversations with our bodies

listening to the intensity of our touch

to the beating of our hearts

the depth of our breath

but we hid

he was an unveiling

the discovery of a different kind of chaos

more felt than seen

more peaceful than catastrophic

he was sunshine in the rain, a cliché

but real

he said “I love you” for the first time

in the corridor of my Yaba flat

his arms wrapped around me

as though we had forever to live in our sin

I wondered what his wife would think

if she heard

five years had gone by

in a crowded Lekki mall

I can still read him

better than the doctor’s notes

I tongue in my head

but should I?

what would he do if he knew?

that I think of his hands on my skin

at breakfast with Khalil

what would he do if he knew?

that little wild tumors will take me away

and I want to mess up our lives before I go