Murungu [shona]

My husband is fascinated.
He has all these questions for me.

Why does your skin crackle at night? Every time you bathe it in water
it doesn’t survive. Your hair is so tight. We met back in oh five
it’s barely grown two inches since. When you walk, an echo emits
from your thighs. Remember Mauritius? The honeymoon. You stood
at the foot of the bed and slid out of your satin dress. First
we made love then you folded your bare skin into me. I held you
tight. Shed a tear at the thought of the monster who clawed
at your hips. Torched your elbows. Burned your knees. Sometimes,
when I’m sure you’re fast asleep, I crawl under the duvet and lather
your knees in lotion. Still, that stubborn tang of burning persists.

With every new question I grew convinced my husband was afraid
of me. But now it seems he just married me out of pity.


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