Kay Ugwuzor

He sat on the carpet and she, on top of him, her legs wrapped around his midriff. It was a quiet evening, the open window let light and breeze into the little room. They spoke almost in a whisper even though they were alone. Occasionally Anu would burst out laughing. ‘I can’t believe you would really do that to him’ Tayo said ‘you’re now a bad girl o’ She giggles ‘I’m not a bad girl, he just needed to have a piece of my mind’ ‘and you gave it to him, right there and then. Not bothering that he was a cultist?’ ‘So what? He can’t do anything to me’ ‘Don’t worry, if he tries anything just come and call me’ they laugh ‘you? Ok. I’d go about finding trouble then. You just wait’ she pokes his chest ‘I’ve not still met any guy that can take care of me the way I want’ ‘really? have you checked all the guys?’ she realizes that his hands have found a way under her blouse. They are both silent for a while; he, looking for a way to get her closer and she staring into his eyes....

I am sitting on the edge of one of the back chairs of the department, hearing the rain fall relentlessly on the roof, on the road, on people. Millions of drops fall along the HOds car, washing away the filth but never the filth it has gathered over the years. I am tired, hungry. I imagine myself stubbornly waging through the rain to the cafeteria. You are sitting next to me, flipping through the selfies you have just taken on my phone. So concerned with your image in the photo that it seems you have forgotten I'm here. You edit them, filtering, cropping, collageing, trying to appear more than you are. I want to tell you you are absolutely stunning in the unedited photos, to tell you that your eyes are round and bold and beautiful like the full moon. But I don't, it'll be useless, I think so and I let you remain, not going beyond your 'don't you have instasquare? Or that editing app' questions. I'd mutter something  even I don't hear and download the app...

Let me tell you a story A boy goes to the river. He dances at the bank of it, allowing the water to gently crawl on his legs, pouring sand between his toes and running back. He loves the chill and the motony of it. He falls in love with the river and the way the orange sun fell behind it in the evenings. He wanted to swim. He wanted an intimate relationship with the river. To travel up and down its body, caress it through and through till he knew every detail of it and it's sweet scent. Yet he feared the river. He feared because he had heard tales of men who had gone in and never swam out. Whom the river, in its beauty had taken away to unknown lands. He would look at the river and see it calm, sober and welcoming but at the thought of going in, the river roared. The boy feared the river and yet, he loved it. I am that boy and you are the river. R ifts I cannot see beyond the smoke screen and the fog that is in your eyes I cannot, somehow, convince you of the power of love an...

This Love Is No More by Kay Ugwuzor So this love is No more the fantasies No more about us No more the item we were Whatever that was This love is No more passions to fill the night No more ‘baby, please hold me tight’ No more ecstasy rising from inside Capturing moments with guilt aside This love is No more than silence here and there No more than smoke hanging in air No more than unsaid verses and lines And your overflowing bag of lies This love is No more than the word No more than spilt blood No more than broken alabaster Far from a happily ever after So this love is No more ... It wasn’t my fault, it was his. It has always been his. He pushed me, he put my back to the wall and I pulled the trigger. It had always been because of him; whenever I brushed my hair in front of the mirror it was because of him, when I snuck out of the house at night, it was because of him. When I went to the boutique two days ago, it was to get him this bright colored Gucci ...

Love Is Not Worth The Trouble I am your friend Yet you'll watch me descend I love you Yet you won't want me above you Of what good is love If it still kills you? Your friendship is like what? A spittle in the dust A puff of smoke in a storm A message on the beach Washed away by the retreating tide Love is not worth the trouble If it still drags me to the rubble Love is not worth the stress If it leaves me in distress (C) Kay Ugwuzor 3-1-2015

Love is not for me, tufia kwa. I'm not going to fall in love. Not like Uncle Sam and that girl he always called ‘Obim’. Every time she came around she would wrap herself in him and they would whisper whatever into each other’s faces with their legs interlocked and their hands hung over their shoulders while leaning on his car outside. She would wear a very broad smile on her small face. Anytime I remembered her now that was the way I saw her, a big broad pretend smile. Uncle Sam quarreled with Mama over this girl ‘she has bewitched you’ Mama said when Uncle told her he wanted to marry Ada. ‘Mama, I love this girl so much and she loves me too, it is not a matter of being under a spell or anything of that sort’ Uncle Sam would answer in his educated accent. He chose not to speak Igbo with us after he came back from the University. Whether he did so to prove we were all illiterates or he was just used to speaking English, I didn’t know and didn’t bother to ask when he took ...