THEIR TEARS ARE WATCHING GOD
- For the Chibok Girls
Their tears were watching God
from the base of the nose
the bit that the hangwoman left for air
and for her own masochistic juice
chef of the red sauce
she was one of them, you know, the hangwoman
Their tears are watching God
from their new abodes,
far separated from the ghostly socked long drained of fluid
the skin of their eyes thrust past the blindfold
when they were first taken –
but their takers have now settled down
to the comfort of stolen breasts
and to gunpowder
the mildest of their intoxicants
having since obtained the consent of the raped
(and that includes diplomats too busy with hardcover girlie mags)
It’s a jackalian task, this
haggling over minds
without a single growl
now everything is adulterated
the coquettish hands
the puerile penises touted pious
which their hangers-on use as question marks –
the gentlest form of their marriage proposals –
(reminding Satan he has a catching up to do),
the woman’s consenting smile
the gory postings on facebook
the ambassadors’ feeble protests
everything
everything is adulterated…
But now that they have bought
the wholesale patent to the mind of the preyed on
the hangwoman is flaunting her taunting prowess:
why don’t you admit you like it here, enh?
why don’t you admit you’re loving it?
that what they did to you last night was, you-know-whore-I-mean?
Why don’t you renounce your hopes
of a one-minute-silence at the next meeting
of the united – or other – nations?
why don’t you admit we’ve all failed
when we should be on all fours
we’re still hanging onto travesties of two….?
Enjoy your brunch of mashed brain
while I wield my working blades
Their tears are still watching God
for telltales
of grave spades
to bury any doubts
that it wasn’t he
that created both these species
and they themselves,
the residues,
on whom the hangwomen now practise their dying .
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