How Dare You? Poem by *Tony Cemaluk Egbuonu

How dare you
enter a road, a compound where no man walks, lives,
the owner you don't even know?
Chasing shadows of a good-for-nothing man,
a weakling without prospects,
who you left abandoned for your selfish, gluttonous good.

Your intent wore no mask under your perceived mask,
like an ostrich hiding.
The table turned. Against you.
The bubble burst.
Naturally.
And the remnant masks fell. Nudity ensued. Stark nakedness.

The big masquerade, wedge-like wood mounted,
finally, suddenly gone for good, to rest.
To avert the approaching avalanche, the thickening,
tornado, the harmful hurricane, and the
merciless de-masking of the mask behind the masks of messes
as lastly hinted by the unknown monster. Your stolid human wedge,
as mortals shifted out
after toiling, pleading, covering massive mess — you messed.

You forgot the law:
'Cast your bread upon the waters...'
Givers never lack.
Givers never collect humiliation
of poverty of the pocket and upstairs.

Go now.
Pick the bruises you planted. Lick the oozes, too.
The way your ilks crumble.