Poems

The Banana Plant

The banana plant lies on the ground, no longer of use,
having been cut down, reluctantly, by the workers in the garden.
Children, anxiously, wait till time's up.
There's nothing in the garden,
other than a sorrowful wind
that makes the grass shiver and moan.

This is exactly like a polygamous ruler.
The tree of the town lies on the ground, no longer of use,
having been cut down, reluctantly, by the workers in the garden.
There's nothing in the room,
other than a sorrowful wind, shaking
the traitors circling the bed crying
tears of hope
that warn about the dangers of quarrels at home
            quarrels
between women
            quarrels
between children, about trinkets and leaders.
Poor you! Alexander's reign is over!

The leper's sores are exposed,
wounds that were hidden for so long
are now in plain view, stinking,
to be sucked on by all kinds of flies.
But each time the fly sucks it is thinking
who next it will infect.

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