Non-Erotic PoetrySoweto RisingBandele last heard
The word of some lord
Who, having just riddled
All dust and spit in him,
Leered down the ditch
With a calamined chin
And then he last saw
Unkulunkulu
Whose tiger-like claw
Released the swarm
That cankers the itch
Of a pink pustuled skin.
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