Poetry

VITALS OF AN AFRICAN WOMAN

All men have clung and nursed

Of her breast and body,

All wet,

Greased with sweat

From the beastly burden of the accursed

From her thighs and bosom

Did man learn to stand erectly

For God and kin, and the sweet juice of mercy

That flows in copious volumes

Ignoring what is true we do appraise

The part of her lips

The curve of her hips

The hump of her bosom

The cleavage of her bottom

Hush! For she swells with assessors of the surface

Towards what is true we make a sudden dart

In our praise of her vitals so essential

Vitals beyond the superficial

Of brains and brave hearts