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Slave Girl

Slave Girl by Victor Ehikioya I have left the gong, The drum... And those sticks that strike The dead log, To my mates, who yet, tarry At the square with amulets Flung around their necks. My soles ache from trekking, And my waist, too weak to Jerk, To the erroneous sounds of Tumid timber. Mama sees not these things For I too foretell the seer's Prank. The letters on the gate, Scare my thought. It seeks refuge from Swollen speeches Bamboos and knives-- Belligerent folks. I am the lad with a Tattooed tooth, Woven on the left breast. The child with a soneri Made to nimble on bare feet As the tambor swells with Rage; To somersault and swirl, Like the Eagle, with Unintended misfortunes. But now, I see their faces, Gaunt! Blurred with hate, A smug with no smile. They sit and scorn Mimicking my rhythm, And the runes from my Charcoal-gray Mother. The tin gods bear my step Witness, And my sniveling, the fools That clamp my feet to Metals. I am the gray child, The voice beneath the sea The monster in the man. These things they fear, For now the mountain, Has fallen in the lake.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Date: 2/23/2016 11:13:00 AM
Your Slave Girl kept in the poem, I hear Like a precious treasure kept in a tear.
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Victor Ehikioya-Brown
Date: 2/23/2016 11:16:00 AM
Thanks, Ovidiu,