Dogs. Poem by Tony Adah

Misty mornings and foggy nights
Dogs toil and struggle in vain dreams
They'd go afishing
Only crab shells rattle in the nets
In oceans fertile like a womb
Nurturing a foetus.
They land blooms with sadness and ecstasy
And dogs sleep in the domain of the former
They'd eat but famine
The sun will shine or the rain will pour
They'll be kept in a kennel by the yard.
Still they're guard dogs
Chasing the ghosts of murdered men
Voices that scare armed bandits away
From the gathered wealth spewed
By the Niger delta into the vaults
Of the affluent
They're the scarecrows of the Commonwealth
And yawn as wide as the stockpile is tall
Silently tails wag
And rest between the thighs
Back to the heap of ashes dogs return
They growl and yawn
And dream with withered hope
Their paws treading on robust flesh
Yet a vain craving in their throats
Fearful backs turn into whispers.
They sniff the air
And smell the ordure of murdered men
Dogs remain dogs
Sad and long as the infinite years
Crawl by.


Tonyadah2018