Ridiculous Imaginings
Sometimes my body pulls me like a rod,
Unforgiving in its ministrations.
It tests me the most.
Wants to know how much silence I can take
on its dull days,
How much heat I can carry
when it begins to boil.
On days like this,
my imagination becomes precise—
terribly clear.
My body knows exactly what it wants.
And sometimes,
Those desires become too much.
I have to pause and say
Ahan, ibo lo tun gbe mi lọ?
I have to call Ridikulous.
Do you want to know how many times I have called Ridikulous?
I'll show you—
Such terrible imaginations,
Such sweet stirrings.
The bittersweet truth is,
It is not that I don't dare.
It is that,
aye wada?
Ridikulous—
because my body moves beyond the economies that sustain it.
Audacious—
because my pen now runs alongside my desires.
My terrible,
Ridikulous imaginings.
… Ridikulous is my safe word. Sheesh.
