(on Sunday, March 21, 2010, a group of Queer Nigerians in New York City got together to have dinner and all be in the same room for the first time. this was written after that.)
I wanna be close to you
you and I who are from the same place, soil, laughter
I wanna be close to the places our souls overlap
this is where my smiles live
egusi and pounded yam and pepper soup
are all ways for me to be close to you
you cook in the kitchen
I come up behind you, hold you and lay my head on your back
I just want to be close to you
feel your breath
know you’re real
know there's more than one me
know someone else has the same rhythms in their blood
has the same blood
know someone else has this many vowels in their name
I want to know someone else whose name sounds like a poem when it’s spoken
round sound full with beats dips valleys drums and heartbeats vibrating in their name
I want to know someone who knows
I want to look at you
you who looks at me and looks like me
smiles like me
you who I know already and don’t
and want to
and you who I love already
who is family
you who are who I’ve been looking for
you who are me
you who have taught me in one night more about home than I can put into this poem
I wanna be close to you
us sagging jeans, tight jeans, bright colors, dark colors, shy, outspoken, exactly the same, completely different, beautiful earrings, sexy boots, sneakers and barefoot
so much flava
Edo and Jos and Patani and
I love us
I want to touch you
like how you want to touch a rainbow or a newborn or run through sprinklers in the summer
I want to be with you, be around you, call you by your full name, the whole thing, the long long name that everyone tries to find shortcuts to avoid, gives you nicknames you never asked for and American names and French names and English names but baby I only want to call you by your proper name, the whole thing, and I will say it twice everytime so you know how much I love it
I want you
I want to feel you breathe
have summer with you
always make you feel understood
when no one understands
or maybe they do, but not quite the way you need them to
I want you
I want to flirt with you
playfully
with no intention of anything but being playful with you
to tease you
and eat the crepes you make
(and plantain and yam and stew and goat and fish)
I want to listen to your stories and see my face painted in the words you say
when you’re saying words that describe you
and somehow me too
and I want you, in the purest sense, I want your stories and the things that hurt you and the things that lift you, build you, make you happy, to come to light,
I want you to bring all of you into the circle of all our arms
this is what I mean when I say I want you
I want your spirit in the building, in the room, in the circle, here
I want to hear about who you love and why
I want to know about your little brother
your sister
your mother
your father
you
your joys
your confusion
you
I want all of you to come here
sit here
be here
breathe here
it’s—it’s just wow.
to know you
to know you like this is wow
when you speak, I feel it in me because I’ve lived what I’ve lived
you are my family
and I wrote this for you
all I can do is think about all of us
all of us
all I can do is lay here and think
and feel all the magic you are
this is the poem that is too small to fit all of this
how many times and how many people and how many books have told all of us that we don’t exist?
and there we were, recreating the recipes our mamas, daddies, aunties taught us to make and bringing them to each other from all parts of the city
to look into the eyes
of the ones
that don’t exist
tell me what else is that but magic?
and that is why I can’t sleep tonight
that is why even though I walked through that door with a broken heart, something shifted and brought laughter into me when I saw you
I learned awhile ago that even when I am tired and hurting and unclear
the thought of our queer Nigerian stories
always brings me joy
I started writing tonight because I thought maybe I should put it all down somewhere
like I can bottle the laughter in that room and conjure it up when I need to
when I miss her
or when I’m lost
or when I can’t get out of bed
or when I’m overwhelmed
or or or or or
this poem is the attempt to bottle the magic
a little bit of it
so on a tough day
I can uncork it
and hear your breath.
