You stand ginger-footed
on the 9th rung of
the year's ladder;
on your left swollen rivers
on the right a riot of rains.
Winged termites still mob
lamp-posts at night,
the toads waiting patiently
for their fallen victims
From Kano to Kandahar
lingering stench of haram wars
gunshots on sleepless nights. . .
Broken banks
a deluge of debts
money chiefs are now in flight,
blind thief-catchers on their trail.
Our Emperor lies prone in a desert kingdom;
his handlers vow he's only praying
Brave month,
can you bring back
our stolen country?


Reader Comments (8)
post a comment
* = Required information