Heaven is behind the tree.

With my mind made on making her realize she was a part of my body, I fought the wind across the park to reach her. Her voice had been sober on the other end of the line this afternoon when I told her to meet me at Heaven.

"Heaven!"

"Yes! where God lives with the Angels"

She laughed. Her solemn voice crinkled in my ears. Smiles filled my heart and I grinned. I wake up each day thinking of ways to make my Baaba laugh.

"and how do you intend to face God with the dirt on your hands?"

Her words were drums in my heart, my heart beat so fast that I nearly passed away. We both knew what I did for a living. We both knew what she did in the past.

"hello.....are you there?"

soberly, I spoke

"yes"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine. the park. 6pm."

"job?"

"I would have told you to bring the Bible"

I ended the call and deposited my body carelessly in my bed. My ribs slammed against the wooden edge of the bed and I shouted 'ouch! My Baaba!' and smiled. Then facing the ceiling, I remembered her words again and my heart pumped very cold blood through my veins. I could feel my body go cold. Certainly, I knew I wasn't dying. Very well that I can't go to hell. I must repent. I confess to her. I must tell her about my love for her. And that we both could go to Heaven tomorrow if we wanted.

I observed humans ran helter-skelter in search of shelter. My phone rang. It was her. She probably wanted to tell me the wind had come to the park with signs to herald rainfall. I watched her worry on the lover's bench.

Then I touched her shoulders from behind her. She collapsed on the bench. I didn't expect any less. She lived in perpetual fear.

"What the fuck was that?"

I smiled. My left palm carefully placed in the right, I knelt before her and begged.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Apologizing and

"since when did you become Jesus?"

I smiled.

"Would you marry me?"

I brought the diamond from my pocket into the opens of my palms.

She laughed. I expected her to. She laughed out loud. She held her stomach, exactly where I shot her some years ago.

"Since when did you know love?"

"Since I carried you to the hospital. I felt a sharp pain in my rib"

"No! I can't marry you. I've stopped this job and I want a meaningful job"

TO BE CONTINUED SOMEDAY when the muse comes.

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Romantic Nonsense.

People are scared of your silence.
I saw how fears brought tears to my lover's eyes 
when he asked me: why won't you complain?
His voice was the faces
of kids supporting the losing team
in a stadium.
His heart raced through rains
that fell like half-bitten apples from a vine tree,
his thick lips waggled in silver waters
when he said: your silence kills.

I swear I could tell he was a dead leaf
head down-legs up-head up-hands apart
somersaulting in the air to locate hell.
But I wore my secrets on my teeth
my next actions were in the open of my skin
and my words were obvious: I'm fine.
Throwing no clues his way
Enjoying him die and wake again in dreads.
There is a pain in waiting and it hurts most
when you're waiting for the end to start.

It was soon after I learned how to marry forests
that a bird whispered the powerful tools to me.
Shapeless, invisible, they were;
touch knowledge, the beautiful blue little bird said
place silence in a box
and see faith for yourself.

My lover became a piece of wood in a river
heavy yet floating on the doubts in his hair.
I watched him eat his soul up and lick his fingers
he tried to know my next set of words
as my lips danced his hopes to grave: I'm fine.

I need to visit the washroom, he said
I laughed softly and kissed his lips
I hugged his imperfect body like a god
he melted into liquid and evaporated away.
My lover is now the perfume I wear
to burn all other men to ashes
he is the memory of ruined castles
in my flesh.
At least, he could have prompted me to be human too. 
By Oppong Clifford Benjamin

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