Relaying with a sour mouth
The taste of the vinegar of belief
I gulped for five Luna moons
I reconcile, I am played.
The tale of two cities, subscribing to same belief
Kept till their desolate waste with promises
And the strong scent of a yielding tomorrow
Both played and strayed before dawn.
We hold our leaking plates before the throne gods of our land
Who, yesterday bought us adire with ore used in holing our buckets
We hold still to the dwindling twilights of promises
Dangled again to blur our story
We are of the Niger, the rock of Africa
Living in servant corners—foreigners in our own lands
Because we chose to bask in a min sunlight
Never learning to play as the snow goose.u