No homo, the night says,
lays itself stretched like a double-lane
road. The moon spreads a strip
of fluorescent light for the malleable
paws of gallivanting cairns.
Furs white as tooth, eyes pierced
as the dark and all the owls
chorus, salute the men stripped
down under a kapok tree.
Desire is an endless bend but also
pearlescent sweat and heat.
The men are slow-burning
automobiles chafing their radiators
into the ominous tenderness—
bliss the absence of law, of hate
the moon’s instruction, care.
Lips holding lips, arched
backs and tousled tongues.
The wind circles back and
whispers, this is good.
Offor (they/he/eux) is a tri-lingual Lagos-born writer. Their recent works are forthcoming with So To Speak Journal, Ouch! Collective and Reckoning Press. They are a finalist for the 2024 NgEducators International Model United Nations Poetry competition and Ayn Rand Essay Contest in 2021.
X: @il_fera_beau
Bluesky: @chideraoffor.bsky.social
