Baobab Lust - Abdulai Rashad


Huge scanty leafy mountain
the only shade created -
centuries to retain
and firmly rooted
with all grunting strands of braids
seething with a glaring attitude of hugeness
in the forecourt of the
   chief's palace
the baobab's eminence.

Her hair, half braided
some portions seeming plaited.
Beautiful lovely princess.

She was born at the time of the
   fires
beneath the shanty shade of the
   baobab,
her smile amidst the gnawing
   winds.

She can not laugh haphazardly
(her lips warn her).
She can only leap for a smile
with shea butter on her
   lips.

She is seven year of age
her body has been stunted
like the nanism of grasses.
She is the image of a class
that I saw in the magazines.

She is marasmus
she is pale and black
she wears no wear
she leans by the baobab
she wakes upon every dust
and upon the roars of the hungry winds.

The thirsty winds approach
   smile, suck and drain.
Drain bodily fluid and brains
then, the subject's skins tears
after unsentimental affection of the feet
   to the earth.

Wrinkles, cracks and crevices
amidst dryness of earth and skin -
the baobab proclaims
with mastery of the trade winds.
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