Mornings like these I watch your nakedness
cling onto and away from my body
like a moth alternates from
light to darkness.
I have syllables of your middle name attached to my lips
like how you've always wanted them to be.
I still falter when I call on you because
naming is how I slip into empty promises
and sweet nothings.
I do not know how to care for a body
to write you into metaphors these days
only turns your full body
into a vessel capable of being torn and destroyed,
knotted together and torn again.
your body safely speaks of it's own bleeding
when I am joined to you.
Nonetheless, I am unafraid of what we are becoming;
a mouthful of lessons on how to hold
a body properly past grief.
Your naked body is an imitation of such tense mornings and
I am still drawn only to you.
Naomi Waweru (she/her) is inspired by love, vulnerability, the yearning of bodies to be free in their connection and has an eye for tradition and culture. Her writings present an adoration for the body. She portrays it as your first sanctuary. She has works on and forthcoming on Merak magazine, a voice from far away webzine, Ghost Heart Literary Journal, Kalahari Review, Poems for the Start of the World Anthology and The African Writers Review. Reach her on Twitter @ndutapoems and Instagram @_ndutapoems.