Interpoetry


Peter Kayode Adegbie a Bachelor of Science, Zoology graduate of the University of Ibadan enjoyed a 
fulfilling career in the Television industry before serving as a Christian Missionary in 
East and Central Africa. He bagged an MA in Creative Writing with commendation at the 
University of Northumbria and currently studies for a PhD at Newcastle University. 

He has published three books including a poetry collection. 
He is married to Theodora a legal practitioner and they have two children Daniel 
and Deborah-Divine.


SWEET TWISTS

When will my change come?
I wait; my prayers go to sleep like dust 
in the sun. My tongue is a dry riverbed, I smell the coat 
of my soul dog-eared and leathery reeking of labored sweat. I cling 
to your promise and you teach me by the things I see in you. My heart 
yearns to attain your truth that envelopes and molds me like clay. In the 
mirror of morning, I am a reflection of your ideals my needs are gone and
my prayers turn into overflowing praise of what I have become in you.


CONFESSION

His voice is soft 
in the cubicle, like 
a suspended sneeze.
Recounts of pleasure 
now brittle as he repents, 
the priest’s silence ferments 
like yeast, his voice, holy and 
unleavened. He dutifully chants
‘Hail Mary’ while his heart drums 
slowly away from the Lord, into an 
ambush where desire lies in wait. 
He rattles prayer beads at the 
Thought of the gap in her 
teeth, and electricity of 
her smile. He is trapped
in the colour of her 
eyes like a trout 
hooked to the 
bait. He is 
fighting 
a losing
battle.

MARRIAGE IS A MIRACLE HERE

She became a scarecrow overnight.
Loose shoulder straps and insomnia 
bags under her eyes. Anna Kasumu 
wanted to be a bride, she was Kampala’s 
belle. Lithe like a gazelle, fresher than 
a village stream  at first light. Her laughter
was the tinkle of bells on a field of 
Chrysanthemums, her voice, soft dribbles 
of early rain. She came to announce her 
wedding, joy danced in her eyes in the dew 
from her heart. We waltzed and whistled 
on the floor, priestly decorum lost in the 
euphoria of a miracle. Marriage is a miracle
here and Patrick Alonza was a good catch. 
But she came back a scarecrow before her 
wedding sobbing torrents on my table, 
a flood of despair. She’d failed the HIV test. 
No, Patrick didn’t know yet, she went alone.
Neither did he know of the night at the 
Ambassador’s party when she floated on 
wine and spread her flowers under the rain 
of the Ambassador’s friend. One night, 
one indiscretion, washed away one life, 
one marriage. O! Marriage is a miracle here.