Illicit Love Poem by Osazee Dankaro

We are lying on this flattened mattress,
On the bare floor of your ‘friend's' room.
Sweat has fastened my chest to your back
As we desperately grip each other in the aftermath of our love
The window is open, but there is no air
Only the hot stench of cigarettes filter in
Chain smoked by your ‘friend' as he patiently awaits
The conclusion of our rendezvous
And the return of his borrowed room to him.

I am strangely content
For only in this hot airless room, the size of my toilet
In being with you, holding you, is my life complete.
I do not care that we are in this smelly room out in the slums,
I do not care that in a couple of hours you would return to your wife
I do not care that your ‘friend' is really your driver.
Being with you and holding you is all I care for
In this moment, I do not think, I cannot think, I do not wish to think
Even of the fact that I too need to return to my wife


In this room alone I do not pretend
In this room alone, there is love and security
I am safe from lynching or being locked up for a dozen and two years
This room and this moment is my life
What wouldn't I give to be in this room at this moment?
In this room at this moment, I can be what and who I am
A man who loves a man; and I love you so dearly
Even though I know where we are and that we can only love in hiding
In this country.

18/5/17