“dear God, keep the devil away
if she wears a dress and red lipstick
then bring the devil my way”
Kunle’s words were like bitter-kola in this mother’s mouth. Words like ‘sex’, ‘breast’, and ‘Succubus’ were glaring as she flipped through the pages of his now-wrinkling diary of poems.
“Ah! daddy-kunle, we are finished, we are finished ooo. Our son has started watching blue-film. He now has girlfriends and worships the devil”
A mortified kunle, wondered how his poetry led his mother to such conclusions.
“Mummy, they are just poems. Don’t get daddy involved in this”
” Just poems? Mo ti ku (i have died). Kunle tell me, are you still a Virgin?”
” Yes mummy, I am only fourteen but it is really none of your business’
“None of my business? I am dead ooo. Ye! mo gbe, Chai!”
” You are still breathing, stop saying you are dead”
Daddy-Kunle does not ask too much questions. He was popularly known as daddy no-shaking.
“Mummy-kunle, what is the matter? A man cannot shit in peace again?”
“it is your son oo, he is writing about blue film”
” Ehn, Kunle, is it true?”
Before Kunle could get two words in edgeways, there was kerosine over his poem-diary. Kunle wondered why his poem about a half-insomnia driven night, filled with the possibility of pubertal nocturnal emissions (Wet Dreams), got his parents angry enough to burn his work of art.
“A succubus and a mare
Came to me last night
Her breasts were the devil’s bait
But mother told me to,
wait for coitus in matrimony
The mare wouldn’t let me sleep
But sleep, i did.
Dear God, keep the devil away
If she wears a dress and red lipstick
Then bring the devil my way
But Mother said wait for Coitus
‘it is more dignified in Matrimony’ ”
“Bloood of Jesus, burn this book” – Mummy-Kunle and Daddy no-shaking screamed as Kunle’s poem-diary burnt to ashes in the backyard.