The monk gave you his Congo creche,
talked of New Guinea where no one’s white.
Could the babe be spared for sacrifice
once his destiny was conjured,
fish hook caught in skin over the heart,
love jury rigged, the flesh savored . . .
Enemy is best to eat, his power
fills you with a taste strong as you will be
(white man upsets stomach, corrodes liver).
Black ivory that shrivels the sun’s eye,
shriek of bats grazing the monk’s cowl.
The raconteur poles upriver
to find the hollow man’s father.
Go to Papua. Kill to live. Eat well.
(22-24 September 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander