A Poem

By Takudzwa Goniwa

It scares me how easily your lips resurrect my pagan thoughts.
How your lungs breathe life into these heathen feelings.
How wickedly willingly my body gyrates to your seductive praise.
How the rubbing of our legs sound like answered prayers.
And scabbed knees finally make sense.

We all know it is worship at its best when its participants lose all semblance of cognisance.
To let go and lose control.
As our spirits make the beast with two backs and our souls release the sweet incense of indecent satisfaction.
Listen intently as our flesh begins to sing the sweet rapture of a second cumming.
All that is required of you is to believe.

This is not a dance to a deity.
This is supplication to the flesh.
And if you are obsessed enough…
I can teach you the steps.