The congregation nod as the pastor “preaches”
he decrees death upon women following other people’s husbands
“Ride on Sir” Ejiro echoes
Now she turns to me
gifts me an ear-to-ear grin
then points with her gaze
“that woman is sleeping with the husband of the woman sitting next to her”.
“How do you know this?” I ask.
“Everyone does. They’re best friends but she goes on trips with her friend’s husband
The decree was for her”.
the women are dressed alike–
like butterflies
I want to ask if the innocent woman knows this
they are whispering and buzzing like bees when I steal a glance
I conclude she doesn’t.
The pastor decrees the wrath of God on promiscuous members of the church
he ends his preaching and praises ring to God
We dance out to give our offerings
as the drum thuds to the keys the choir hit in their praise
I begin to feel the service was worth my time.
An announcer mounts the podium to announce Thanksgiving
The butterflies flutter to the back of the church.
the cheating husband trudges to join them
a little girl and a boy walk in front of the couple–
beautiful fruits of the union
the pastor blesses the man
cries how much he contributes to the work of the Lord
“church, this man has been a good member of the church, one worth emulating”
I laugh at the hypocrisy.
I kiss Ejiro goodbye
promise to bring her my famous Oha soup to work the next day.
Making oha soup is very therapeutic to me even if I don’t eat it
That is better hypocrisy to watch.
Narrative poem with lyrical cadence, the twist in the last verse called for a second read.