Poets' Corner
My Neighbour
Not even at my door
Begging for as reactionary a thing as sugar.
Look, chum, stand there
Let me tell you something.
Those who promised to
Bring down from the heavenly tables
And into the lowly streets where it belongs
As common a thing as bread
Those who swore to
Run down the public taps
The peoples' milk and peoples' milo
Those who resolved
They would pool in the street gutters
Whatever was left of the citizens beer
Before the Holy War,
Those who confirmed there was
Huge chunks of meat to feed
The lean and hungry faces,
Assuring us that
At that almighty heavenly table
They had brought a matchet down hard
On a birthday cake
Such that,
Great pleasurable bits of it
Had shot into every
Malnutritioned mouth
Are still undisturbed in their sleep.
Really, I still cannot understand
Why you should by-pass them all
Or...
Oh the armoured cars!
The stray bullets
Tanks
Defence Committees poised with
Sticks to chase you to your shack
As they did to every University student
including me
And that is it, isn't it?
Well, you can't come to me.
Not even with your child dying because
His kwashiorkor belly refuse
everything
At this point of his death, everything except
Perhaps koko.
I didn't promise, swear oaths
Make fitful resolutions and confirmations
Did I?
Leave me alone.
Tehtey, Koforidua, Ghana
