So there you’d stand

By the baobab tree,

Shirt in hand,

Buttons set free,

Eyebrows drawn on (in a too dark black)

Like you were

Mourning.

And though

The slick of blood red

Made your nails too honest to hide

And the same blood red

Clung to your lips,

Like a vampire in the night-

I quivered at the sight

Yet my own blood rushed.

So I hope you can’t see me below the baobab,

With my eyes bewitched,

With my lips leaking drool.

You sparkle and glitter

In my mind’s eye… clad in paint or au natural

And I stare, unashamed, up your tights

Staying far too close to the baobab tree.