Mr Soo Poem by Job Ombati

He introduced the other wife —
just like that.

And in a sombre occasion,
he just asked her to step onto the platform,
to just join him
and Loice — the older wife.

With one hand on the shoulder of the older wife,
and the other
around the waist of the younger,
he unleashed
praises
of both women.

The older one was ‘mother of the boma'
and SISTER;
the younger,
the functional hand.

Both were BEAUTIFUL!
Irrespective of the obvious age diastema,
he declared.

You see,
age was catching up,
and there were places that still needed meditative massaging —
places out of reach
of his old hand
and that of the old wife.

Juanita —
standing right on the left —
was that hand:
soft and dexterous.

Juanita smiled.
Loice looked baffled.
He just was enjoying it ALL!

The congregation
laughed.
They understood.

© Poems for Humanity

[Wednesday,29 October 2025 - 12: 29 p.m., Nairobi]