Now that the sun is black:
The womb too is in an array of disgust
And her face never shines beneath his footsteps
But a lion upon a weak intruder
Four have seized breathing
Earthed beneath the baobab forests
And for the last two, males.
Their cheeks tattooed with silver earrings.
Now that the sun is still black:
Her body drenched in an estuary
And her eternity, re-birthed and
The laughing stock has been found
In her dressing, walking, dancing, singing and talking
The shameless creed has been broth to earth
That eats even in broken calabashes at the bantaba
The toiling slave has been picked up from the ditch
That labors all day in their ceremonies
But patience is her sure name
Till the nakedness of the sun arise,
And the loopholes of the ants
Brightened than mid-day in the tropics
Then they odd in appearance
So that he [she] will not return
Back to the spirits of the old.