Your Lover’s Heart is a Cold Hell
I.
It’s a double homicide.
A mystery of missing bodies.
Darkness makes its way
through a rubble of rays, searching
for the corpse of the sun
like a spouse scouring for chlorophyll
in a fading romance.
Your heart too is a crime scene—
it is where love breathed its last.
II.
Your motives are a spectrum
of spectres—blurry songs!
Your demons, disciples of the night
sprout like dirges at the demise of day—
this time, as fingers of death wrapped
around a frantic blade, etching epitaph
on your lover’s back.
Ghost of Ecstasy
Red rose petals
glare back in deathly fonts—
a suicide note in shimmering shadows—
as I open the door to my lover’s home.
Pots of flames perch on heads of
candles in procession
on the stairway to her room.
I see ghosts of ecstasy—
a scarf sprawled on the steps,
a black tie that is not mine
hanging on the railing, a stiletto
in a puddle of spilled wine
on the landing.
I ask the key-hole
details of the crime scene beyond.
It tells tales of breathless bodies
lying in ruins of bliss, arms & legs
scattered in ashes of lust.
I interrogated the walls,
they claim their backs were turned!
I beg the moon to turn around—
the room is about to witness a
gruesome threesome!
A MOTEL ON COCA-COLA ROAD
You are hot
like Ilorin sun,
Abuja wannabe.
You will burn my heart!
Serene eyes, subtle smile.
The hills on your chest are
seemingly insurmountable
like Sobi & Zuma combined!
You promise the coolness of
Maitama boulevards on Sundays
but beneath the purdah, I see
the commotion of market
swallow up Friday worshippers
at the Central Mosque.
The Church of your body
is a motel on Coca-Cola road!
You are like Ilorin sun,
Abuja wannabe—
you will burn my heart
& leave my pockets dry.
Jide Badmus is an electrical engineer, a poet inspired by beauty and destruction; he believes that things in ruins were once beautiful.
Badmus explores themes around sensuality and healing. He writes from Lagos, Nigeria. You can reach him on twitter @bardmus, IG @instajhide
I really like the last one. This was a great read. Thank you, sire.
I’m glad you do