Shigidi – a cursed African gnome – lay spread in an acid rain
bedraggled to the teeth, to the last hair on its wiggling tail.
Across from the junction where it lay in the throes of pain
are the broken bones of toothless men, skulls, splintered shale.
Little kids pace around with hands across their nose, disgust -
the ugly bastard once ruled the night like a fierce, rabid skunk.
They kick him around now with the dung around its wooden bust,
and laugh in the rain to mothers’ delight. Old men play drunk.
The year began a dream – country luck hanging on a bilious rock;
a finger in the eye of the poor, struggling village. A buyover man.
A silver spoon flashes here in the light. This time a non-shod shock
rips through an angry country, silence morphing into a flash-pan.
Red eyes cohere and all that remains are burnt remnants of tare
as rain clears out painful drains. Shigidi withers into its nightmare.
