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Closet Conversations | a cause for chaos

for Ouma Lily and Ouma Margareth

who bit their tongues

in order to chew


for mamma and laura

who refused to conform

and made independence my norm


for pappa

who said he would accept me

no matter what

​

for all the queers who came before me

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Closet Conversations | a cause for chaos: Projects
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Chapter I | Closeted Love

IN FIVE PARTS

PART I


She sneaks me through the back door

she's still sleeping she whispers

and puts her pointing finger to her mouth

beckons me through darkness

as we pass the closet she is used to living in

and into her room

I kiss her mouth and play with her tongue

we are on the bed

clothes lost between sheets

she parts my legs by way of her masculine thigh

pulls her thickness

over my slit of wetness

nipples begging to be licked

cunt ready to be devoured


a toilet is being flushed

pause.

Hands are being washed

pause.



Our connected lips caress again

I pull away

I can't go back to this, I say

back to what she sounds out of breath

back to being your dirty little secret

but you are my dirty little secret

she doesn't say this

but her face contorts into a mischievous one

begging me to dip those words in its pun


​

I analyse

I could have the sex I yearn for

or leave with my dignity

_ _ _ _

I do what I came for

dip my mouth in her honey

call an uber

don't allow her to please my tenting pussy

(silly me

thought this left me with power)



but here I am

again

hidden in the closet rarely used

the closet with a door that creaks loudly

along with her mother's linen

the vacuum cleaner that doesn't work

and the bulk pack of toilet paper



​

PART II

She cooks for me today

a rare treat

chicken in a home-made sauce

with rice and potatoes samp and beans

I think of a time when I can put my tongue to her

casa labia



she dishes the chicken rice samp and beans

and then? No greens? I tease

I'm Xhosa

we eat meat and rice

I roll my eyes and open the fridge

show her an untouched cucumber

and put it to my mouth

she laughs and says that's nasty

you don't like this phallic symbol?

Everyone else thinks you do, but I know better, I add resentful

(but laughing, always covering my feelings, laughing)



We move to the couch

she rubs my thigh

a key is heard in the lock

she removes her hand

and I'm denied a right to be loved again

I smile at her housemate

who does not know how to turn the key

to the lonely closet

my lover decides to hide in



​

PART III



she doesn't find it funny you know

you called her a poes, she explains

she was being lowkey homophobic, how am I to blame?

Was I supposed to take it

like you do?



She looks at me hurt



you know you'll never be friends again?

We never were friends I say

I look out the window

we're driving on the freeway

I pass the joint



whatever I don't miss her anyway, I mumble

smoke bellowing of my mouth

I know this is a lie but it's how I protect myself

I don't think she misses you either she says

as she turns off the freeway

I can't tell whether this is a lie

​

It stings

​

I open the window

and deal my triumph card

say I won't ever visit her at home again

she looks at me and raises an eyebrow

what happened last night was a

heated moment kind of thing

we can go somewhere else next time she says

convinced I like this secrecy kind of fling



I look out the window again

lower my seat and turn on my side

I can't be buried in your conservative family ties

when all that I am defies

living in the closet lies


PART IV



He greets me with a kiss

every time

he comes

to meet me

at least he never hides us like she

does I think pull him towards me



I become his for another day and night

I don't think of her

living in that lonely closet



I won't



his tongue is warmly nestled under mine

I cannot be stuck there with her I think

love is not something to hide

he hides his cock deeply inside of me

the closet is not a healthy place to be



He greets me with a kiss

every time

he comes

to meet me

I am raw on the inside

he did good, I think

as I watch him leave



I walk into the shower

scrub his remains off of my body

and weep

into the flowing water

trying not to think of her

hiding us in the lonely closet

​

PART V

My mother likes her though

she thinks she's funny

I only find her funny when I'm high

My mother likes her though

they talk easily

share stories of their lives momentarily

like friends



My mother likes her though

I am in the kitchen tossing a salad

they're outside on the porch roasting bread

she is using her hands to convey a message

my mother listens with intent

I've never seen her listen to me like that I think to myself

they throw their heads back and laugh

and I wonder what they're laughing about

I slice the onions

I fucking hate onions



She looks at me though the window and widens her eyes

I know she likes my mom too

she's just acting like she needs to be rescued

saved

to keep me from a slight jealous rage

I smile back and slice the avocado

I fucking love avocado



how are things in here she asks

walking in through the front door

not as fun as your time with your new best friend I tease

she laughs again

the same laugh she I saw her giving my mother

do you need any help?

She changes the subject

I hand her a bowl of Tine Roof ice-cream

I want a thousand word essay on what's creamier

me or this bowl of ice-cream



my mother calls her name

not in the same way she calls my name

she calls her name with

eagerness to engage

mine with eagerness of whatever

bowl in hand she tells me

I better go new best friend forever reporting for duty



too bad you can only be yourself

when you're around my family I add as she turns on her way out

she turns to look at me

Really? You want to do this now?

I can't help it I say

she sends me sad kisses with her eyes and leaves me

chopping the tomatoes

I fucking hate tomatoes

Closet Conversations | a cause for chaos: Projects
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Chapter II | sexual tensions

IN FOUR PARTS

PART I


I place my handbag on the table and sit down

look at you, he says

and gets up to greet me

​

I hate being made to feel like a trophy

but when he does it I curl up like a spiral

thank you, I say and reluctantly smile

​

I order some water and he stares me down

I wore this top because I like it

when he undresses me

with his eyes

​

Yet, tonight

I won't be answering the question of

your place or mine?

I intend to go

not to his place

but mine,

alone

​

it's been five years I say

breaking his captivation

indeed, he says and continues to stare

You ignored me the last time I came to visit…

actually, he says, leveling his eyes to mine

you made me pay for lunch

then got up and said you have a girlfriend now


I still do, I say laughing


You're lying


_ _ _ _


Okay fine, she's not my girlfriend, I'll admit

he smiles at this

and orders Pinotage

my favourite


I tell him I don't drink wine

another lie, he sighs


my people work like slaves on the farms

for the rich to get drunk, I say

we know this, he says

and pours me a glass anyway


why do you have to make things so difficult for me, he asks


the glass of Pinotage releases a pleasant scent

I want to be stubborn and leave the slaves' work of art

aerating in my glass

I shift the glass towards him


be present

just for tonight he begs

as he shifts the glass right back


and with just one look

my clitoris quivers just a little


I am wet

ready to slay this game we love to play

so I give myself over to this dance that never gets old

besides, I waxed my vulva for the first time in five years

tonight, he better lick this pussy raw


so I lean forward, excitedly

and sip the wine

​

​

PART II


a storm is coming, he said

after he kissed me

I do not remember where we were

but I smiled in delight

for I was born on a stormy

Monday night


I am the storm, I said

before I latched his tongue

in between my front teeth

and sucked the flesh as far

as my mouth would allowing

he groaned in dangerous pleasure

tongue turned to a shade of blue

eyes rolling into a branched reddish hue

I've always liked my lovers willing & ready

to indulge in fantasy


​

PART III


finally I can lay my head to rest

in the salty air of your chest

in the crisp breeze of your words

in the love of your embrace

in the content look on your face

as the cum shoots all over my face

​


PART IV

​

their movements are erotically eratic

a clenched fist upon sheets

wrapping legs

bended knees

trust thrusts

and bouncing bust

one

two

three

four

five

this pussy pulses for you


six

seven

eight

nine

ten

fuck I think I'm in heaven

I was told I'd never get there

because I like to

thrust

pulse

aah

thrust

pulse

ah

they said

you slut, you'll never get to heaven

because you like to

thrust

pulse

ah

thrust

pulse

ah

thrust thrust thrust

pulse pulse pulse

ah ah ah

seems like I have a confession

I have arrived in heaven

and I did not have to die

Closet Conversations | a cause for chaos: Projects
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Chapter III | rite of passage

IN THREE PARTS

PART I


blood rolling down


my inner thighs again


my period decided


to rear its head again


my emotions decided


to wreak havoc again


and I am left with a hatred


for the droplets


bubbling inside


my uterus again


like a volcano waiting


to erupt lava


out of my vagina


again

​

​

PART II


I bleed in tears


I bleed in blood


I bleed in pain


I bleed once, sometimes twice a month


I bleed in experience


I bleed in silence


I bleed in tongues


I bleed once, sometimes twice a month


I bleed on my tampon


sometimes a menstrual cup


I free bleed on my jeans


I bleed once, sometimes twice a month


I bleed because of my uterus


I bleed because my body wants


I bleed because god


is the creator of sadist mystery


I bleed not because of want


yet I bleed once, sometimes twice a month



PART III


the fourth of January two thousand and four

I am twelve

I am visiting my Ouma

and it is nine in the morn’


I can hear my Ouma’s kettle whistle

I think that’s what woke me up

I can feel a rumbling in my tummy

this must mean that I’m hungry


morning, ouma, I say, what’s for breakfast?

Ouma is stirring her and Oupa’s morning porridge

I’ve never seen Oupa make his own porridge,

nevermind any of the eight cups of tea he slurps every day


my tummy starts rumbling again

someone must be hungry, Ouma laughs

something seems to be stirring my tummy

like Ouma is stirring the porridge


brown stains on my panty

I thought a period is Red

I run to my Ouma and tell her

I think last night I bled


she runs to her bedroom cupboard

leaving the porridge to taste slightly burny

then returns with thick white towels

and safety pins to secure my first period nappy


In this nappy I feel safe

In this nappy I feel loved

My ouma fashioned my first pad

out of towels, safety pins and a whole lot of magic

Closet Conversations | a cause for chaos: Projects
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