Mama told me that the body of a woman is a place of dead skulls-
A place where shredded dreams gather to mourn, like staggering waters -
seeking to find rest under the tavern of a numb night

She said -
Akanji, beware of a woman and her body
It tastes like ruins of war; where bones lay feeble in the middle of a red river - a river tamed by death -

The moan of a woman tastes like the cry of a wounded night
A place where broken men are haunted - for sipping from a fallen tree, a tree in woman form - whose body is a river to every thirsty boy.

A night with a woman is like the lane that leads nowhere - a land where deluded poems gather
to be shoved down the throat of the earth that yawns without remorse

I said to mama
If a woman's body is a barren land,  I choose to be a wayfarer that finds a home between the bushy grasp of the fierce sun

Then I stood
And walked away to find my woman and her body