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IN MEMORIAM: KEN SARO WIWA
Photo of KSW
In the gutted morning
you wake up standing
with a faithful pencil
near your crowded notebook
knowing each bruise
of a year's nakedness
in the rainswept doorway
dulled by hunger.

Under a rope
of tar skies
night covers you
you sense orange blossoms
from the earth's forgotten warmth,
your shoes are heavier
made of human shadows
you wish for justice
thinking back
by your student lamp
with your scattered friends
wanting miracles
under a sovereign sky.
B.Z. NIDITCH

Read another poem by B.Z. Niditch

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This page last updated: 13th November 2006.