Thursday, 11 September 2014

Morning Call

What has the toddler done to be cursed with the drum?

What has the babbler done to be burdened with song?
Each night, in sleep, the voices come
begging to be heard at my court of song
and until I hear their plea, place them on my bed
curdle them with the pen
and lay them to rest in the arms of drums,
thy never rest.
Each night, each dream time, even lavatory time
I sing.
I, the grandson of Wosekpo mother of songs
I, with the jittery voice, son of Dzatugbui!

9.31 AM. 11.9.14