THEY
They came at night,
In the midst of the paradigm,
Silently shifted comfortable malices
Overruled gavels in high tables
Redressed the emperor in tattered robes
They came,
Brandishing torches of hope
And yet waves engulfed me
The pardoned became paroled
And Guinea pigs began to revolt
They came at high noon,
Holding cocked Guns of Navarone
They came to kill the Mocking Bird
Flooded the cockroach-filled sinking ship,
And fed me with lucid placebos
They came at night,
Signposts on their dim foreheads
Baton sticks between their buttocks
Stomach rumblings on their faces
Barren, pot-bellied peacocks,
They came.
- Mbonisi P. Ncube