Collected Poems

across scrublands and seven rivers, a long-prepared

hangman's loop in their hand

quickly circled his neck

as he died

and the gods

and ancestors

were satisfied.

III

They are strong and to be feared

they make the mighty crash

in ruin like iroko's fall

at height of noon scattering

nests and frantic birdsong

in damped silence of deep

undergrowth. Yet they are fooled

as easily as children those deities

their simple omnipotence

drowsed by praise.

Lament of the Sacred Python

I was there when lizards

were ones and twos, child

Of ancient river god Idemili. Painful

Teardrops of Sky's first weeping

Drew my spots. Sky-born

I walked the earth with royal gait

And crowds of human mourners

Filing down funereal paths

Across lengthening shadows

Of the dead acknowledged my face

In broken dirges of fear.