Do not ask how my night went | Poetry

'Kúnlé Adébàjò
2 min readApr 2, 2020
Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

Do not ask how my night went (‘cause)
You don’t want to hear about my nightmares
And how I spent more hours screaming than dreaming
Seeking warmth in the ceiling rather than in these thick, sweaty sheets

If I slept like a log of wood
You don’t want to hear me announce it
How faster can a (wo)man be driven to sleep
Than through such unexciting news?

And if I toiled all night
Fetching water from my lover’s well
Or harvesting syrupy milk from her glands
Sometimes reclining into her ridges for renewed
That is a business I am sure
You’d rather not lend your ears to

Do not ask if I have eaten
Unless you have a hamper-full of fruits
and a bowl of rice waiting to be bequeathed
If the nays have it

And if the ayes have it
What devil resides inside you that
Takes pleasure in reminding me of my poor tastes
— Or lazy habits
— Or parched purses
Or what masochist lives in your heart that seeks such indignity?

Do not ask if I love, or miss, you
Because I don’t
Or, perhaps … I wouldn’t know if I did

I beg you, do not direct that shot here-wards
Because one of us is going to wind up inconsolable
— Or terminally ill
And, darling, something tells me it isn’t me



'Kúnlé Adébàjò

An arcless half-a-wise-guy who happens to write. All you need to know is at: