Orange Room

In her striptease, worn
as inept as a mini without panties;
in this orange room – a private lounge,
stereo blasting, teenagers barely legal –
serving sparkling wine, topless n’ carefree.
Illuminated on the neon podium
her body oscillating to Fela’s Afrobeat
she took prisoners effortlessly by her –
swaying luscious hips, caressed ribcage
and licked red-tinted lips, stained with lust;
in this uproar, who would consent
she is paid; by men n’ women – old n’ young
to soothe their frayed nerves, to fulfill their whim
– a private dancer.

Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords | 2020

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