Baskadia

Frist time biafra

was there, we're told it was fine

figure massively hewn in hard wood.

Voracious White ants

Set upon it and ate

Through it's huge emplaced feet

To the great heart abandoning

a farrowed, emptied scare crow.

And sun-stricken waves came and beat crazily

About it's feet eaten hollow

Till crashing facedown in a million fragments

It was floated gleefully away

To cold shores-cartographers alone

marking the coastline of that forgotten massive stance.

In our time it came again

In pain and acrid smell of powder.

And furious wreckers

Emboldened by half a millennium

Of conquest,battering

On new oil dividends,are now

At it's black throat squeezing

Blood and lymph down to

Its hands and feet

Bloated by quashiokor

Must Africa have

To come a third time?'