We urge the fishing boats towards
then launch a flight of fishing nets.
They tackle the
The nets return. We shy
away. The drip of liquid beads
sparkle in the sun, our nets weightless
like claws of hunger that slice through
We dare hope.An oil-well head in
the Niger Delta Creeks sings,
frothing in the mouth,
black crude. Poisoned fish
plague the water surface.
With open mouths, they are beyond
begging for breath
as if we are
though ourselves doomed .
The sheen spreads like silver
on the dusky face of the
The mirror shimmers, reflects our
wrinkled foreheads.The stench of
sulphur hits our nostrils like a fix .
Several of the fishermen vomit over the
The first villager to die
floats into the clouds at twilight even
before the fishing boats
our own bones
hang over the
* Environmental issues in the Niger Delta