Ann Arbor Review
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AFRO-BLACK TO BLOOD
They attack with the guerrilla style.
Eyes become one with the interstices between jungle leaves
dancing a tribal dance death
and when the real predator looks in your eyes
you will realise
its race is what we call human.
Swamps as hungry as African rivers
abound in dead bodies.
The starving crocs discard them.
They have peeped,
rising heads from the
calm river beds
to watch the poison of African wars, drugs
and unkindness being poured in those bodies.
The hairs of the African lions have grown thick
to cover the ears from sounds of bullets
and cries of orphans.
Those fighting like war dogs are not enemies,
they are rebels supported by a civilization
crushed by a juggernaut.
The men in force wanted their ladies
as a promise to protect them and now
the rebellion starts as a sound of a canon fire
in the darkest parts of Africa.
Soldiers and rebels renamed as
predators and survivors
struggle to see their own Africa.
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