T He Plague
The lips are baked, cracked
Disfigured
The eyes gaunt and
Hollow
Face skeletal in the monsoon,
Wrinkled-
The plague has come.
The Oracular Verb calling,
Humans lurking phantoms,
The moon asleep in the frost:
The plague! The plague!
The hunters are armed
Toe to teeth
Spears and matchets gleaming
Out for the hunt.
The plague.
“ nuë ngông,”
Bless us all,
Fight the plague.
Bodies fortified
Palm wine drunk-
Arrows dipped in poison:
Hunters shrieking into the forest,
Hunting their own aggrieved ancestors.
Copyright ©
NGT NGT | Year Posted 2013
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