How Else Do We Prop a Leaning Tower
How else do we prop a leaning tower?
Pull it down? Root and roof and all
falling, crush roaches and rodents—
aliens without a fatherland.
Leeches and suckers, they're. Carriers
of malaria, bloated tummies, fire red.
Hawks and vultures, hovering for carcass;
babblers, shrinking common coffers
with glee till the tower crumbles;
till they turn dumb. A peacock in borrowed
rainbow feathers, strutting. A white rooster
crowing at dawn with delight,
but cooing his dirge.
Will wind of fire fan a preening bird on
a perch? Will storm spare a lone Iroko
in a forest of shrubs; or soldier ants,
a tramping foot?
Digging deep, plumb and level in hand!
Dressed stone for foundation; cured bricks for walls!
The tower points high, firmly braced
in steady steps to stand storm and quake.
Stand! Stand, a tower as we stare gleefully,
heads raised to the sky.
© 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
Copyright © Celestine Ikwuamaesi | Year Posted 2016
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