These days, a true heart is the black sheep-
Does the lovebird not care he can go bare?
Forget he that nectar hides in other petals,
Breasts eagerly waiting the kiss of his suck?
How oft will He be crucified by love for one
Like that fowl at winter making a nest with
His own feather for she who shares isles of
Wedlock with him because she failed to craft
Hers all fall; for she busied chasing lovers who
Like vampires love her under smokes of night
But at sunrise flee her having gotten their
Pound of blood, having pulled the lovebird’s
Floating city of treasures from firmaments-

When winter is slain by hours and fall lives,
Having crafted nest for her with my feathers
I am now a bare-bird; she is decked in gems
Again chasing the vampires of the nights-
Again they bow upon my city of treasures
My treasured city is a mat where beasts of
Wild nights lay, playing moonlight Vikings-
How long will my beak not learn to loathe
The honeyed nectar this petal nurtures it with?
How long will I suck same nipples beasts suck,
Suckled with food of swine like a prodigal son?
How long will I play the crucified Christ
Yet the anti-Christ-night-walkers triumph,
Not spilling an ounce of gore, oh mankind-

© Eterigho Oghenekome Humphrey.

First published by Literary Yard.