by Oyindamola Shoola

This morning, before leaving for the church,
you part me in two,
somewhere around the place we left off last night.

Your fingers hang in places; trying to mark my body.
Your mind fills with the river of pleasure
and your curiosity hangs agape waiting.

You pour yourself vulnerably,
moving your body in different positions
from the bed to the chair, to the floor,
lying upside down,
legs up, resting against the wall,
yearning, wanting and t(h)rusting with time
for the end of these pages to come.