The Storm
The Storm
Lily disappeared in one hardened season,
Her innocence drugged inside a container from Lagos to America,
Dumped into a whore plantation
Where the hugs of men are colder than the bottom of Antarctica.
Neighbours mutter in their sleep:
Daisy disappeared too, for the same reason.
Coming like rain, soft and lush,
These maidens returned wearing seductive smiles,
To refresh men who rarely eat vegetables,
Flooding their fantasies with foreign fakegasm.
Good girls gone wild, selling death through their outlets,
Infectious love cloned into emotional tablets,
Where immune systems surrender to colonies of STDs,
Leaving our ancestors rummaging through thicker forests of herbs.
Obituaries are no longer a shock.
They could not find a cure,
But they found timber for coffins.
Uche Chidozie Okorie
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