She is a
queen mother
But
treated as Desdemona
What do
we say to her
In her
disgust?
We, her
children, sit at the round table
Daring
for a scrumptious feast
But we
are forever taunted
By the
bulging red eyes
Unfitting
on a queen mother’s face
The
hardness of her hand we bear
And our
rebellious attitude
Recoils
her tenderness
Not so
naïve in her closet
Doubting
her, she doubts us too
As we
pretend to love her
She hugs
herself alone
And our
foolishness swallows us all
Written By
Okari
Belema
SS 2A
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