A Poem
By Nkateko Masinga
i go back to the day we met:
twenty-four and unassuming
was a good look on me, your
hoodie my best. mid-august,
cursed to be the time i leave
my body and clamour yours;
climb your chimney throat
with my tongue, blow ash
off your skin; puff, pass (out)
& remember nothing by morn.
& this is how we stayed young:
backseat in a stolen car, drunk;
your favourite song on replay,
clothes and lyrics dishevelled.
how i know i have not aged a day:
your lips are still my only terminus.
