For This Famine, a Poem

For This Famine, A Poem

For This Poem, A Famine

By Afua Serwah Osei-Bonsu

 

When I was little

I was a pony

I grew up to be a horse

I regretted my complaints

Like the infamy of the raped TV star

Who publicized and reduced her potential

The maraschino, no cotton wool

She sued and price tagged her pain

She shouted

And marked her soul

How much for rape?

How much for slavery?

Where does that Devil come from?

Maybe I should thank my Devil

As a muse

And accept my fate

And cry for nothing

For this famine, a poem

For this poem, a famine

He was so jealous

Not to walk in my shoes

He said even for this moment

They beat each other with bats for a stronger crest

He kicked until the shit fell out

He enslaved her 4 ½ decades and said I am the greatest producer

He staged their wedding several times

And people stashed the Vielchenblau napkins in their bags

That said a Chinese lamb, a blue rose in 14 karat gold

The festivities were gay until

Someone screamed from jealousy

Little Jinn walked out of the closet closing his zipper

The doors of imagination bridal chamber empty

The bride was left in a basement defrosting hamburger

To protest her German Chinese suitor

A voyeur, a squirrel, a cabron

She tipped her glass

In a wino’s voice she said

“I am marrying Little Jinn”

 

 

 

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