A BOTTLE FULL OF WHITE JELLY

For the one and only departmental queen

By Tikum Mbah Azonga

He will not be there
When the time comes
Mark my words, the fool will be gone
Gone with the wind
And into the hidden cave
The lake of the Lake Queen
Where dinosaurs revel
On slimy stairs of gold
And stunted jilted girls
Dry out in the sun
Like drunk river birds too lofty to swim
If we prefer to serve as fodder for the cannon
We shall be left behind, stranded and in tears.

Copyright 2011