—for boys cremated, till they become
an inscription of graveyard
I. 
the boy next door clenches his libido within his
mouth & gurgles it down his throat till it burps as gas.
he shivers like a stirring volcano ready to erupt,
cowers in fear & hides his sexuality underneath
his masculinity when he saw the news headline
drape with bones of gay boys lynched by mobs.
II.
the boy next street wishes to be modelled as
the tower of babel, sanctified with a new tongue,
to feel the inferno of a different language
within his soul as he fires his tongue down
a throat & paddles the body of another boy.
he desires to walk the street holding hands
with his lover without stirring chaos &
planting a parting kiss on his lips without
being tagged a relic of sodomy.
III.
somewhere out there, another boy awaits Allah
at Salat to bless him El Jannah within his body,
a paradise where he can fly above the sky &
tweak himself into the colours of a rainbow.
behind closed doors, he smears his lips, dresses
his skin with a frail gown & covers his scalp
with a wig, ready to slay town. but something
suppresses him from stepping into his truth,
home—an abattoir where boys like him are
lynched till they become a remnant for crows.
Tobun Pelumi
(Omofolawe), NGP III, is a black writer from the trenches of Africa & a photographer that resides in Lagos, Nigeria. His works have appeared/forthcoming in Arts Lounge, Nymphs, Erato Magazine, Eunoia Review, Poetic Africa, Ibadanarts and elsewhere. He was a joint winner of PIN June 2021 poetry challenge, & he was also a shortlist in BKPW December 2021 poetry competition. He’s on Twitter and Instagram @pelumitobun.
