NATASHA

NATASHA Dweller of sky There is a picnic in the curls of knowledge Undress that life For a safari in the heart of my Fulani* wander I will be the victim of Victoria- Fall on the shrine of Kilimanjaro If the flute of Senghor* dies in the dark I will brave the harmattan in your greed Fetch salsa to our playground I will be the sentry of our loveyard Tie the shivers in your sleeps I will be the farmer of your laughters Fry the entry of cosmetic leeches I will choke the threats of your snores Smash the laments of hyenas The treason of mimosa The jest-ful sways of cabbages …only if you knife your eye for winter I’ve taken from you Blisters of the souls you tied I will be the baptism of your nubile havocs Load your pretences in my senghorian silo …only if your name is still Akpesha Fulani: A nomadic tribe of West Africa Senghor: A Senegalese poet who led the Negritude movement