On The Eve Of Hanging Day Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Noctilucent creeping ones garrison
The winding paths on the eve of hanging day.
So are the nubiferous skies, yielding fluidlights,
Anti-Satanic and humorous
Gentle drums on the spine of the village
Aid the tramping feet.

And from us here in the horsewhip-guarded
Kennel, prayers!

And they flee!

Behind the eye of their billowing
Native garments,
Lonesome pathways of a scorched hamlet
Hung on the homely contour of the
Eve of the hanging day.