“Tell them I was there when democracy
was defiled by horny men who wore
agbadas and babanrigas”
We laid our loins
On the surgical bed of justice,
Where diseases that bedevil decorum
Are meant to be doused with nays and yeas
They, our medicos,
Saw the nudity of our silence
And raped us like bitches
That have meandered astray.
Rape now a diagnosis.
We are now a conurbation
Pregnant with a bastard;
A gravid society experiencing
Persistent menstruation during gestation.
For the hymen of our grace
Has been ruptured by the notorious god of greed,
And the sacredness of our womb is no more.
We need therapy.