a picture showing moyo okediji and his students during a class

The Proposal

The Proposal

(To the colonial master)

Oga, will you marry me,

and take me home?

I can be your second

even third or fourth wife

You look so handsome

and I giggle

when I cast my gaze low

below the belt.

Oga, I don’t care

if you rubbish me

even name me

Bad, bad names

It is the same to me

my love is on fire

It started with a tiny spark

but I took no heed

it was just a blade of grass

burning in my yard.

I went to bed thinking

the fire is nothing

it will soon quench it’s flames

I had been in love before

with a tall mulatto gentleman

lasting all but one rain

that didn’t water my crops

or dig me a water well.

But this spark

is totally different

I swear, Oga

it did not die

as I laid in bed

I had a dream

and I wore my wedding gown

all white and snowy lacy

frosty white gold,

white pearls, cold diamond

In a white cathedral

Glistering with arched spires

I now declare you married

for better or worse

forever keep your peace

or something along that phrase

I tossed a white bouquet

woven with white ornaments

it flew across the room

through the stainglass window

took wings like an angel

soared up into the clouds

and disappeared from view

as we all gaze up

begging for it to return

and wipe away my sins.

I woke up hot and sweating

as the flame of love

had spread to the roof

and all the furniture

was burning with consummate passion

as I shook and shivered

with ecstatic tremor

which is not my fashion.

Oga, please marry me

kiss me or kick me

anything you want or need, Oga

but whatever you do,

Just don’t leave me here

totally take me there.

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