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About This Poem
weep not, niger
from this forest
where wild life once blossom’d
& from streams
where young sweety fishes
up-turn’d a thousand fragrance
in some belly-wise shows
gasping
bubbling
drumming to many lips
to a ceremony of delicacies –
& then mother
i was a scukling
babling
crawling
swept by the clan’s lovely drum
& then mother
i was a todler
graduating from your
ready back-straps
jumping
dancing
suffocating in the dramatic
ecstacies of the native drum -
oh, i greet, mother
& your folks
swept by these new drums
of the bombs
singing of the poverty
in the land -
oh, weep not, niger!
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