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Feuding Cattle
I badly fear feuding cattle,
Vexed into a ferocious battle;
An endless shudder at the goring horn
To them granted when they were born.
I could imprison the defecating cattle
And off and on heatedly rattle
About their messy-looking hilly dung,
At all corners of an expanse, filthily flung.
But I do pity the knife-facing cattle,
Just as I would an on-a-slab-turtle,
Of resistance dispossessed, no less of mettle;
To soon in active kitchen pots settle…
I could Imitate journeying lazing cattle,
This intently doing and not a little,
If my destination be an object funeral,
No lucky grabbing of a bottle of mineral.
Copyright ©
Chinedum Ekwobi
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