Aniete Isong


Seat of Hunger


Her most prized possessions surround her:

A sordid plate. An umbrella. A kettle.


Her once attractive face has been

Scalded by the merciless African sun.


She pitches her seat by the National Museum.

Her forced smiles are at white tourists like you.



Yes, you in those spotless designer shoes.

Why walk away from her woes?



Yes, you in that noiseless, customized automobile.

Why drive away from her needs?



Yes, you wearing that priceless gold chain.

Why leave her chained to this seat of hunger?



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Sentinel Poetry (Online) #41

INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY & GRAPHICS...Since 2002     ISSN 1479-425X     April 2006

Editor: Amatoristero Ede

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