The Little Girl With Fever Poem by Tony Adah

The frail little girl laid down
On a straw mat panting with little
Or no energy
Her rib cage rising and falling
Red lips and febrile looks
Hair smeared in kernel oil
And the back of the feet swollen and shining
Like a fresh gourd hanging on a bough
There's no hospital
But it is too late to die
Who will clear this bush?
Who will fill the puddles in the yard?
Who will empty the broken earthen wares
Some weeks filled with rain water?
So the tiny mosquitoes' house will be gone?