In the wild you own the muddy water,
On the other side of swimming children,
Gorging on fish, pigs, dogs and friends alike;
An implacable grin of certain death
Hoiri was wrong to fear, hate and hunt you.
In my mind you are the old way we were.
To you Mitoro was simply a meal,
Silent and deadly, you stole to the deeps.
In the city you’re a belt or hand-bag,
On the waist or arm of some socialite,
Greedy fat wallet spewing Somares;
An innocuous sin of certain wealth
Hoiri was right, the sorcerers used you.
In my mind they are the new way we are.
Taking “possession of his wife Mitoro”,
Spreading their sanguma to steal our dreams.
Labu Station, 12:00pm February 25, 2018
© 2018 Michael Theophilus Dom