Night, Hide Me. –by Madu Chisom kingdavid

Night,  Hide Me

Epilepsy grapples the lungs of mid air;
Long shadows leaning on black faces,
Across the hills, beyond the great rivers...

Now, hide me in your dark drapery,
Night, hide me!
Or ripen my feet into a solemn exile.

For the cannonteeth are thundering in the
noonward breeze,
Scattering tired thumbsters before the
ballot boxes...

Even the scavengers are already in the
red streets
Banqueting on the thumbsters silenced
by cannonteeth.

Night, hide me, hide me quick.
For they're impregnating the ballot boxes
With unripe thumbs
And the media stalking the labyrinth of bigotry...

Night, still hide me, hide me quick.

For here come the old hawks in new feathers
In the chameleon of the Crucified
To rebuild the broken State in three days...

Who've all eaten roasted yam with palm oil
But have not stain it on their cloths at all.

They have come again:
The New and the Old Hawks with Rainbow Visions
That might not even sprout tendrils...
 

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