Of the seven deadliest sins in my country
A man loving another man is the first three.
It’s Friday in Lagos
meaning it’s the unholy cocktail
traffic, TGIF, Friday night doings
and I am here with my lover.
The room is the aura of love
and laughter and hands and bodies.
On days like this, I am thankful to God
for man, such masterpiece;
for mine, his hands, his lips, his soul.
I listen as he speaks
His words reach me like heaven’s arms
and I become a celestial being
finding divinity in another man’s touch
and I refuse to hear my pastor’s spewing.
Still, it’s Friday in Lagos
“I will like to dance with you.”
my lover gives me his hands,
and we surf Spotify for afrobeat
“Something African,” he says. “…and gay.”
The last part is a whisper
like we have learnt to love
in hushed whispers and silent sounds
no vowels, just consonants in the bedroom.
Here we are on a Friday night in Lagos.
“A song can’t be gay,” I should say,
but I know what he wants
and tonight is not for the intellectual.
So, I hold him and he smiles as we sway
to Callum Scott’s Boys in the Street.
Of the seven deadliest sins in my country
a man loving another man is the first three
a man caught fucking another is the other four.
Written by Brown Boy Bloom
