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TOYIN ADEWALE-GABRIEL
A Tale of Two Vultures
(as told after the Owerri riots)
A beak explores the jaded road,
a wing uncovers absences.
Just here, the grass is drenched
in blood, in salt, in tears, in carrion.
A webbed foot invades the muddied
water where darkness plays.
Legends resonate in the air,
shuttered like Chinese fans,
Who know you can hide
a heart soaked in graft
herbal leaves cannot heal
your unyielding neck.
Perched on your cousin's roof,
truths as fast as stars falls
like ripe papaya.
The grubs have plenty to eat.
The gongbearer blows the news,
like ash off the palm of the left hand.
it alights on pico seconds,
rending the dense clouds.
Impaled on the moon,
a boy's head is banging for justice.
A mother's harvest blights at noon.
Thorns choke the good wheat.
Nothing is on pause. The streets
descend with wide, wide eyes. Windows
unfurl, letting in the news and a rain
of petrol and a load of shit,
An awakening justice,
Just here, the grass is drenched
in blood. In salt. In carrion.
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