45.
He was young
He was shiny
He was slim
He was brand
He was earth
He was sky
He was tremor
He was fall
He was chartered
He was bus
He was hampered
He was slowed
He was kind
He was vain
He was branded
He was armed
He was questioned
He was game
He was knowledge
He was stained
He was awed, keening, blurred
He was bloody
He was serious
He is damned
46.
Was I ever sober when I declared the hierarchy of love
As chocolate, wine then you?
It’s cold outside
It’s cold inside
My skin is clammy with desire
And there’s no one else at home
Let me instigate this kind of trouble
Let me trouble this investigation
Investigate this troubling notion
That silk and cotton
Are perfect replacements for your hands
That smokes and alcohol can be remedies
for an unkissed mouth
That this last weekend
Is an almost forgotten dream
47.
I don’t want to meet for coffee any more
I don’t want to meet you in the deepest corners of cafes
and talk about newspaper articles and yesterday’s news
I don’t want to spend two hours with baby at breast
Waiting for sibling at nursery school
In a cafe full of strollers with other mothers and other babies
Waiting for siblings at nursery school
I want you to take me home
Let sleeping babies sleep
I want you to guide me to the sink
Drape a towel over my shoulders and run the warm tap
I want you to hold the back of my head
I want you to guide the soap away from my eyes
I want you to rinse my head with water, a tad too hot
I want you to wash my hair
On Thursdays I want to walk by the shampoo aisle
with baby at breast
And remember the smell of shampoo
48.
There is no power to a wretched god
a ratchet god
coughing up phlegm
There is no power to a god
who holds up his pants with one hand
as he waits his turn to walk
through the metal detector at Heathrow
There’s even less to god in a good suit
nothing
nothing
not even the remote possibility
not even the light
of a small smile
49.
This morning
we found her curled up, asleep inside a potato
When she woke up
she said it was good for her skin, all that starch
she said it was soft and warm and dark
she said potatoes smelled like earth
she said we couldn’t understand
she said that all she wanted was to go back home
50.
Days stumble into each other
Friday collapses into Monday
After you
A golden city awaits
After you
A city resplendent in memories and glittery with tears
After you
Home
Juliane Okot Bitek 