There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra

gorged they chose their roost

keeping the hollowed remnant

in easy range of cold

telescopic eyes. . . .

Strange

indeed how love in other

ways so particular

will pick a corner

in that charnel house

tidy it and coil up there, perhaps

even fall asleep—her face

turned to the wall!

. . . Thus the Commandant at Belsen

Camp going home for

the day with fumes of

human roast clinging

rebelliously to his hairy

nostrils will stop

at the wayside sweetshop

and pick up a chocolate

for his tender offspring

waiting at home for Daddy’s

return . . .

Praise bounteous

providence if you will

that grants even an ogre

a tiny glowworm

tenderness encapsulated

in icy caverns of a cruel

heart or else despair