DRY SEASON
The dry-plain North
belches
and everyone becomes
her pet
to powder
The free-flour wind
a dust merchant
tumbles
in the throat
feeding the fed
She convulses and vomits
and bumps
in to the master
or the servant
she knows no rank
Her last feast of
cheap dust
leaves on her path
a stranger victim on
flying visit
And when you do come over
remember,
she’s there ready to
feast you to freemeals
in the dry season.
Dan Awodoye
EDITOR’S NOTE
Archived from Nigeria Magazine, Sunday, 1 March 1970.