Eyes pasted on colored glass
Such are the lamentations of saints
The lamentations of an old man
Is a skin stretched over tired bones
Hollow and cancerous, light as quarried stones
Written T’s with uncrossed limbs
i’s with unfinished dots
The lamentations of pregnant woman
Is skin taut like a drum
Swollen ankles and feverish mornings
Untyped periods, lost in bleeding sentences
Dies rolling down chromosomal stairs
The lamentations of the hungry children of Africa
Is skin taut like a drum
Spindly legs supporting large heads, bearing sunken sockets
Dry plates and drier palates
Lies from rotten political volcanoes spewing
The lamentations of Eden
There is a tree of Knowledge,
And a bevy of slithering snakes
Skillful ventriloquists, golden fruits
Cries of lost perfection, washing down proud eves
The lamentations of a Nigerian poet
Is a wandering and ink starved muse
Unread and unseen poems
Like the proverbial prophet, not lauded at home,
Wise fingers gripping office chairs, 9-5s
Written by: Chikatito Jones
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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