On making fire

One cold night,

Over the skies,beaconed the glistening stars.

I asked her:

“Àmòpé,

What if we make fire,

Without striking stones together?"

Without striking wooden matches

On matchboxes?”

She said to me:

“Look me in the eyes

Look into my soul

Do you not see the inferno

Which you set unto it?

You already made the fire yourself.”

I said to her:

“Let us make more fire

With ourselves.

Let us burn in flames of desire

And fervour.

Àmòpé,

Let us burn

And leave ashes of lust.”