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Sentinel Poetry Magazine January 2003
Victor Ehikhamenor
Noon Night
Last time I looked up To my land's horizon The sun promised to be up Unhindered with the usual Arrows stinging Unshielded heads
To illuminate the plateau Of Jos And the decaying chateau Of Lagos
Not to be wasted on merry-go-round Rhetoric that reeks in the parliament Like unburied corpses littering streets After tribal clashes
Now when I looked in The eerie eyes Of the oracle of the hill, It is dark. Already midnight Midnight at noon The gods became Revolting rivers Barren barns And caking lakes.
Melancholy echo The songs that welcomed A forbidden moon In a denied noon It is midnight at noon A sudden eclipse of time Acolytes have No oil for their priests' lantern We wallow in dark ignorance Not knowing our head From tail.
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