Ayoola Goodyness Olanrewaju writes

THE FOOLING FOX

Did you remember?

When we met in a wintered December

My ears tingled on your little secret

Slithering proudly in your tongued secrete…

You lipped a voice like an angel

‘I don’t eat fish’…with a gaudy swell

 I coughed--muffled a bursting smile

As you wore a look in a mermaid’s style.

We went for the hunt for mince pie

Two or three we did buy…

The monger told us it was fish baked

You said as long it was not fish staked.

We removed the debris of fish

And I sensed your hungry wish

You munched with a sweetened gnash

And puked nothing in the waiting trash.

I told you of my concocted fish stew

Served some and the fish I withdrew

But not without the fleshy tears and torn

Of coward fish in the scoop and turn.

On sweaty palms, you ate the redeemed grains

Warped neatly from the steaming pains

And tongue-lashed the plate a clean slate

I sighted a stew-spilled veil tied to your tiny waist.

I have begged the troubled thought till now

Of the question of how, the how and how …

You hate the fish and not the flavour

And on the stew you feigned not the savour.

I just told your known truth

And suddenly you lost your talent of Ruth

And today that I cooked fish

You munched your rice with a stewless dish.

I see your eyes bloom a pitied sight

And your hands wearied like a starless night

I whistle more fish from the cooling box

In your wan grin, I see a fooling fox…