Monday, August 6, 2012

Distorted Selves

Cannibal's Web

Who is to say, we would know your face anymore anyway
If we passed each other on the smoking streets,
Which continually burn as Nigerian oil wells do
Or that you would be fare for the famished
Stares of those cannibals on the roadside
Who eat their own, who consume, like lunatics
In the tangled bushes with wild eyes under the moon
Awash with the graceful silken strands
Of the spider’s web and struggling next meal