mercredi 14 avril 2010


For Ben Okri

For Ben Okri

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

It was hunch backed
And spread out too thinly to catch on
The famished twin decks berthed gently
As I spied from my humble turret
Full of myself and too deep to weep
The awkward wet birds drank the pastor’s wine
The church elders stood at akimbo and mocked
They chided me for being too flat-chested.

In this funny world where twelve year olds are prematurely groomed
And where unwillingly catechists fight on
And new born babies are caught out dying quietly
While their distraught mothers for ever fret
The mad king knows he’s a creep
Soon when the prodigal son returns from his concubine
Everyone, even veteran polygamists with minds all blocked
Will suddenly remember the old wounds today badly infested.

Copyright 2010

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