Our Future Poem by Stephen Kekeghe

We undress our topsoil
While beetles erupt our tuber beds.
The leeches on the stool
Sucking the nature oil
Like horde of anopheles
Proboscising on helpless lame.

We digest the euphony
Of their flapping tongue
As they hood wink us
With their chameleonic batons.
We are enthused
To cleanse the whole clan
While the stool at home
Is not washed.

We gaze at the oil,
We gaze at our future,
Where is the future
Of a generation
If the oil refuse to drip?

The hoot of the night bird
Mimics ill-fortune
For the night hunter.