Remember all the honey
thick & smooth against your skin
covered by hands steady from
soothing hard loving into dusk
Tell him you feel alone
Tell him fear comes to you like memory
brushing softly against your chest
leaning in if you don’t swat quickly
Sit still when he calls you love
in a string of words
that unpack your lonely
and leaves them out to dry
Ask about an already laid plan
Watch the sun come to his eyes
the corners of his mouth shift to lift
his face then follow the tilt of his head
the swing of his fingers
the future is coming back to life
Play that song from Inside llewyn Davis
Don’t speak – If you missed the train I’m on
start soft when the chorus comes along
a little louder on the next lines – a hundred miles
remember Christmas – a hundred miles
remember May – You can hear the whistle blow
remember all the honey? – a hundred miles
The togetherness of crisp
summer days, afternoons spent laughing and
picnics at the beach. The unexpected
drop ins we welcomed. Late night jamming to
afrobeat and the sound of familiar voices.
We talked politics, the insatiable
Lagos life, the rush, the quickening
pulse, trading stories of police men
swinging loaded guns (in our faces).
There were spicy chicken wings. Liquor store
spendings- Jack Daniels. Merlot. Moet. Some
pulped orange juice and wedding party get-togethers.
Dress fittings. Secret dance practice
in the basement. Left over blue and white
candy from the wedding. Thanksgiving dinner
that actually involved Turkey and mashed potatoes.
The boys didn’t like it.
We made plans and cellphone videos.
Road trips to Edmonton. Sing-alongs to Davido’s Ekuro.
A steady trail of job applications. The long-distance
marriages. Snowstorms and Long-awaited victories.
The awe. The serenity. The magic of it all.