My Angel of Sin
On lovers’ day
She tempts me, and I fall
But I sustain no wound.
At the table of prayer, I see
She walks pass with naked apples
Naked amorous apples
At this holy hour
When man’s heart thinks of no sin
Swiftly, the eyes abstain
The eyes returns to holy book
Where law and the love guide our hearts
But the mind abstains not, the mind eye looks on.
The eyes let go,
But the mind holds back.
Then again, I look with the eyes of faith
Look the tempting Eve
And her luscious oranges
I look her from the rear
She looks me in the eyes and spells me,
That I can’t unbound myself,
Spirit, soul and body become feeble.
Resisting the devil in the name of Christ
He flees not. She smiles. She winks.
The heart beats drum fast
The mind lost focus instantly
I’m not eleventh son of Jacob
I’m but a weak servant of lust.
And she exits unbothered,
Leaving me vulnerably uncared for
Deserting her captive of lust at the saintly table
I am spellbound. I follow after,
So I grab the ungodly angel from the rear.
Holy Christ! I’m not the lad, Potiphar’s slave,
I am but a slave of sin obeying the master’s order,
And she lets my pious arms confine her, and
She lets my fingers play also
Those soft notes, to the music of intimacy
Plugging the lips inside lips,
Then, from the lips side, lips traversed downward
Suckling juice atop the juicy hills
She exclaims quietly, “pastor!”
But I care not for I’m heaven bound
Again, she lets my fingers run freely
On the curves and backsides;
And she loves it.
Then she untangle to an ungodly side of the rooms
Where lights sparkle like spec of many colours
And twerking slowly, to the rhythm of our souls’ music
At that point, the mind thinks of abstention
I think of retiring to saintly side
But is heaven not holier than the holy book?
For I see ahead of me, heaven and all its pleasures, offered for free
Why then, should man prefer the sinful world?
I choose, rather, to banish my thirst with water of life.
Then she takes me to the spring of life
Where water is cooling and sweet
And from the spring
To the pure river of water of life
Where she strips off my filthy garment
And I dive with the tempting angel
To the centre of the seventh heaven
Wishing never to return
But I return
Return to saintly table
For I’m not Jacob’s eleventh
Nor his promiscuous first, and
She’s not Potiphar’s
Biography
Olatubosun David is a Nigeria writer and poet. He is a member of PEN, Nigeria Centre; Coordinator, Society of Young Nigerian Writers (SYNW), Achievers University, Owo. A graduate of Achievers University, Owo, currently works in Achievers University, Owo. Ondo State, Nigeria. He is on Twitter @davidolatubosun and Instagram @olatubosundavid