Queer, tender, ecstatic like lovemaking,
her warm breath brew flames between my thighs
extinguishing my consciousness before the wake of dawn.

I am a monster, she’s a scum
(so they say) –
two lovers of the same gender.

Generations before our fathers –
custodians of our culture called it a taboo
virtuous women ain’t indorsed to indulge.

Mother wishes it away,
says it’s a smear, an out-of-date prank
to tarnish her daughter’s repute.

Neighbors murmur to explain the inexplicable –
“Nature created them, Eve,
Nurture made her Adam.”

I’ve become acquainted with public opinion –
my punishment is HELLFIRE they swear, but
the sermon on the pulpit is clear – “JUDGE NOT!”

If you’re straight, why care?
Let God whom your presumptuousness tag an illiterate
yet, your vain-glory call a righteous judge, be my arbiter.

© Ugo Nkwoala | 2020
Photo: Lovers by Holly Durden Studio

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