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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