AFRICAN DIRGE

She lies  -

a black thread on the scorching earth,

a cloud of flies (or is it a child?) croons over her;

suddenly, he tugs at her head  (for child it is!)

as he might be tugging a turnip from the ground:

no halloween lantern was ever so gruesome:

sunken cheeks, huge teeth, and eyes staring

at some hungry dream.

Death, a snivelling mongrel that will not let him near her,

growls at him:

a withered stalk broken by the wind of the madness of it   -

he cries.




if only
tears
weren't salty