Social Incest Poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru

The laundry greets me at the door, and bedding's strewn on the floor,
A stench creeps from the kitchen, as we pass the gate.
I yearn to use the restroom, but my call must wait,
For she sits there in that bowl, lost in conversation—unaware.
Is she chatting? Or flirting with my closest friends?
A reminder of the trials, the twists that never end.

The hymns, the praises, the birds that sing,
My college days of prayer, the humble things,
From earnest pleas for guidance, to faith in my hands,
The job came swiftly, a response to my demands.
Knocking, seeking, asking, borrowing—then subsiding,
An answer came through her, a cousin's hand providing.
She found me a place to stay, and welcomed me with grace,
Together we shared space—never knowing what we'd face.

Errands like a couple, though we'd never yet see,
Our friendship blossomed, wild and free.
Trips together, nights under the stars,
Unpredictable moments, as close as we are.
Her friends shaped her style—trends she'd wear,
Facebook, Twitter, Viber, as we'd share.
At first, it was innocent, a cousin, a friend,
But soon things shifted, and we couldn't pretend.

The neckline lowered, just a touch,
And I had to adjust, too much, too much.
The curtains of my eyes, drawn too late,
Revealing the flesh that sealed our fate.
My fingers numb, but not enough to deny,
What lay before me, I could not deny.
Moans and whispers, accidental sighs,
What was once a glance, became a prize.

Jealousy bubbled, within the group,
As they saw my care, their voices a loop.
We'd walk the stairs, hand in hand,
Assist her dressing, understand the demand.
But the law, the Bible, could not shield
What the cold of July had finally revealed.
At first, the space between us wide,
But slowly, softly, we drew closer inside.

Chemistry, they say—without question or reason,
What pulls us together, and what drives the season?
We begged forgiveness, too late, too soon,
For our parents, our faith, but not the moon.
The church sought verses, but could not condemn,
Our secret too recent, to call it sin.
No warning, no caution, no future to see,
But the truth of our love—was it just you and me?

Blessings in disguise, they say with a smile,
The world's design was crafted in style.
To sire the handsomest sons, the most beautiful daughters,
Yet here we stand, in the waters,
Paying for deeds we once couldn't foresee,
A price for our actions, to set our minds free.
They say what goes around comes around,
But where is the justice when it all comes unbound?

Social media, they say, has taken the lead,
Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp—all we need.
Her fingers glide from my heart to the screen,
Her touch once mine, now lost in the sheen.
The nights once long, now cut short in haste,
As we chase after tweets, leaving moments to waste.

Oh, darling, before this digital tide,
Before the nights spent together, side by side,
The food was sweet, the air so pure,
The room a fragrance, a love that was sure.
But now, darling, in this age we reside,
We sip more water than green, and no longer abide.
More pepper in our ugali, more fat in the juice,
As the world spins faster, in digital abuse.

Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp—everywhere we go,
In the bank, the park, even church we show.
In every space, our fingers tap,
A style that varies, but never snaps.
So this is the end, the world as we know,
The digital age, the afterglow.