MY KIND OF PLACE

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

It’s not marble or even gold
Like they say
Not all that glitters is gold
So why exile me to mars
To die a miserable death?
I don’t want a state funeral
But for Christ’s sake
Let me die here.

War isn’t what scares me
No, it’s little girls in shorts
They are an enemy to the human eye
Yet I can’t pluck and eat
They’re like an impregnable wall
Full of concrete and more concrete
But short of the friendly pith
And the common man’s lowly plea.

Copyright 2010-08-06