FWGE Day 21: Body Language by Adedamola Adedayo

here we shall have no business with words
not even mincing or fiddling
the way a mouse nibbles meat

this office permits such (maybe) vagueness
with you and I seated, opposite,
as equal sides of a rectangle,
while the door behind is bolted —
for once, the reception desk may lapse

and there is no third party
unless the lively air conditioner
conniving with timeless muteness
to ambush us in suppressed sizzling amour

thus as you shed off your secretary skin
and me, softened in my alpha posture,
our bodies become a language
replete with sensual DIALECTS
spoken fluently by obsequious body-parts
to communicate newborn chemistry

dialect one:
eyes thrust into each other. yours, of jealousy,
reminiscing yesterday’s flirtatiousness with guest-lady.
mine, catching the cue, somewhat apologetic.

dialect two:
mouths half-ajar. yours, stifling awe at clean-shaven
spik-and-span looks. mine, struck by God’s perfect body shape

dialect three:
skin. yours, pale with desire, craving strokes.
mine, a field of goosebumps

dialect four:
heart. yours, pounding faster, expectant.
mine, at default pace yet synergized with yours.

dialect five:
blood. yours, red-hot, pumping.
mine, a river of lewdness.

blah, blah, blah…

somehow, I think, we can afford to
break the last line of offishness
for this will be a fulfillment
of our body language