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Second prize, 2019 Makewana Poetry Competition |
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Don’t tell my mother |
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I am not a virgin |
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Don’t tell me you knew either |
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I only just told you |
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Don’t tell her I lost my virginity on the same bed she used to tuck me in as a child |
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Don’t tell my mother I opened my body first and not my mind to a man |
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Then I acted surprised when he left me for another who did the same |
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Please don’t tell my mother I was a fool for infatuation more than once |
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That I frequently misspelled L-O-V-E as L-U-S-T |
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Don’t tell my mother I fell hard for a boy and his pick-up lines |
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When I was supposed to cross the road when I saw one coming my way |
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Don’t tell my mother my fantasies turned into experiments |
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Deviant acts being desired over decades |
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Things I recreated from television that evoked emotional responses |
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The senses in my young body tingled |
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Fires of raging hormones |
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Discovering erogenous zones |
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Outside of marital homes |
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Even invading some |
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Don’t tell my mother I crossed the line she drew by rubbing it out, jumping over it, ignoring it and twisting it |
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Don’t tell my mother self-control lost the battle to desire’s control |
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Don’t tell my mother I thought was too righteous for one night stands until I wasn’t |
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Don’t tell my mother my synapses fire with thoughts of fornication |
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At any time and any place |
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How can they not when sex is sold in everything |
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Don’t tell my mother I was almost like her until I wasn’t |
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Don’t tell my mother these sexy secrets are actually burdening bondages |
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The other youth and myself accessorize our traumas with |
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Don’t tell my mother I was too afraid of loneliness I never tried to be alone |
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Don’t tell my mother all my kinks and tricks |
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Otherwise the innocent little girl she sees might become dirty and tainted in her eyes |
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And we both can’t have that |
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Don’t tell my mother I have sinned with my thoughts, hands, lips and dreams |
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My body lost its glory each time I succumbed to temptation |
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Don’t tell my mother I accepted that impurity was humanity’s course and I served myself a full plate |
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Don’t tell my mother I still face the consequences of surrendering to sheets |
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Don’t tell my mother otherwise she might read this poem to all the mothers, aunties and sisters |
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And I am not ready to know how my actions rate against their expectations |
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Tell my mother I want to the courage to tell my daughter |
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All the things I can never ask her about her youth |
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All the things I can never tell my mother about mine |
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So herstory doesn’t have to repeat itself |
