i silently uplifted myself from cannibalistic romances –
poof, poof, phoenix, GO! —
and that became a comical pattern of my prior life.
banange, whatever was the point, anyhow?
i mean, these vile lovers had already consumed my body!
“abeg! no bodies! no beauty! no cannibals! only spirits”:
i transfixed my vision beyond my tarnished eyes for
eyes that bore witness to the awkward deaths of some of my selves and so
i wanted to see through something else.
that was before i opened the same eyes, exposed to your sparkle and then dared to glare,
to shine my own eye and speechlessly stare.
clear-eyed now, i see that your scars, like mine, that were long and deep have gingerly faded.
i see that i can chagua and be chagua-ed through both eyes and spirit for
asili ya huba, mwanzowe ni jicho.
for the first time i cannot stop this vigorous passion
to give all that someone can take for
when words disappoint me, how else shall i speak?
how else, when i am viscerally held by your heart each time you speak,
wewe ni wangu wamaisha and then blink too fast?
asali, i still have not found the mouth with which
to proclaim a sweet love that does not
smother; or why i adore the way your ears stand,
away from your head as if mocking it.
asali, with this sweet-sweet love you give
the walls of my heart are content.
nothing suffers me. asili ya huba, mwanzowe ni jicho.
you are my lasting ending to the dream i thought was only for others.