Skip to content
Home » Hourglass, Rodeo | Animashaun Ameen

Hourglass, Rodeo | Animashaun Ameen


For D.

I ran into my lover’s mouth &

found a river staring back at me.

 He said:

  “the only way I see myself going 

is by drowning.”

I held this boy’s hand in mine &

opened myself up to absorb all of the pain 

he has to give away. 

“why do we always have to 

romanticize the idea of death 

when there is so much to live for?” I asked   

“why not? Existence is pain”

On Christmas’ eve, he walked 

into the room wearing his glasses & nothing else, 

a strain of emptiness drew from his temple and ran into his chest. 

                    “I am tired, Ameen”

        “I know”

I already have the answers to 

all the questions I was supposed to ask 

so instead, I held his face in my hands

& his body reeked of love,

  & of death, & 

of dead flowers that never bloomed.

        “do not die on me, D.

        Live for me. 



We laid in snow, cold.

Our bodies battered badly by the

sheer hunger seeping 

out of them. 

You are a gourmand, insatiable. 

I say “give me all of your warmth”

& you shed off your skin to 

keep me afloat. You laid in snow,


I climb on top of you & thrust

to the best of my abilities. You 

wanted to run your cold hand

down to your appendage but I

slapped it off before it could complete 

its pilgrimage. 

You belong to me & I 

belong to the streets.  The universe

never gives back anything that it swallows.

We laid in snow, cold. Your hands – 

my hands. Your warmth – my warmth. 

I rose to climb the gates of heaven. 

You never got out beneath me.


Animashaun Ameen is a not-entirely-straight Nigerian poet and essayist. His writings are mostly centered on grief, sexuality, and identity. His works have appeared/forthcoming in The Drinking Gourd, Roadrunner Review, Stone of Madness Press, Perhappened Magazine, EroGospel, and elsewhere. He lives and writes from Lagos, Nigeria. An oddball. A butterfly. He tweets @AmeenAnimashaun