Eating a Friend
We once called Dogs guardians of our compounds and our heart,
Heart of the household, warm as bread and bright as blaze,
Blaze that bowed at our feet in the inaudible obscure.
Obscure fell like a butcher’s shutter across the tetragonal,
Tetragonal where fidelity once flapped its tender tail,
Tail now dangles like a query in the market air.
Air profuse with starvation, a wolf wearing a hominid face,
Face of famine, carving memory like stiff bone,
Bone soup boiling where trust once had its residence.
Residence at the table set with silver and with disgrace,
Disgrace salted into every affectionate, rented inhalation,
Inhalation of a comrade we entitled as love before it became meat.
Meat of dogs have become preferred and delicious food,
Food for some people, for lunch or diner in homes or eateries,
Eateries' existing due to man's business of murdering and hating Dogs,
Dogs suffering betrayal yet they have been loyal to man.
Poem by N. Mugisho
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