Femme fatale The lone moon flashed red, When your graciousness awoke, as you Roused your pride,

and roared the beautiful good morning. Very well, for while you stare round seeking your first catch for the day, The rest of us mortal men hide behind short grass, seek shelter Under half-dead trees, for the fear of our hearts being stolen again, By your fresh water white smile. The lone stars sang dull sounds Fainting voices, hitherto bright and loud Muffled like the sun hid by cloud, While you prowl the plain plane, Seeking whom you may rob of mirth, Leaving him to pine away, lovelorn. Alas your graciousness! We are torn between two evils: We hate to lose your beautiful face, and Hate to cry till the earth ceases to turn. Nevertheless we pick the first evil-

We can recover should we choose to-and we do, Making room for another graciousness to surface... Maybe then the moon would cease to bleed, And the stars would once again, sing in their several colours... Opeyemi 31/5/20