for B. R. Dionysius
rumbling slowly through the outskirts
great wooden wagons curl into a fist
drivers consult policy manuals inspect pincushion flesh
buffalo skin yellowed and curling at the edges hesitant
village blacksmiths study instructions suspended
from the city walls men starving in iron cages
intruders entering through open windows
the lone, almost desperate cries
of 'Nightfall!'
high above the population
gables topple together in prayer
decrepit buildings fingertips spill forth stalls
selling fruit meat hot soup corn and chestnuts a boy
jumbled sandstorm of rags runs from a doorway
hands you a piece of paper leads you
into a backroom motions you
to lie down.
in an alleyway beside the Catfish River
rubbish, discarded possessions a stone jetty
hemlock galleon tumbledown houses staircases
black flags everywhere
nothing to be found.
in a hut beneath a bridge
stucco fruit rots in barrels
poets and leg irons rust in boxes beneath cellars
women croak in tunnels cholera's nymphs
forecast epidemics at the surface
small, cloaked people stagger through boroughs
carry laden sacks between buildings / everything must be hidden.
near the marketplace guards stop inhabitants demand
to see papers stale bread torn cloth deserted offices
windowsills festive season suicides pigment
leached from stretched, narcotic torsos
negroes wearing oceans as beards
cheeks dyed orange faces wracked
pillory smiles.
