Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Djebel Aktar

It would be better if we
Gave you a name Mr
Neanderthal hmmm
How about Argo ?
You are one of the
Last of your line
Aged nearly thirty
Sitting high up in
A cave overlooking
The Strait of Gibraltar
Nibbling thoughtfully
On a grilled ape rib
This would be oooh
Twenty three thousand
Years ago give or take
Today is Thursday
Your wife has popped
Down to the spring
Line to fetch water
She is still nimble
Despite her twenty
five years;
She has produced
Twelve children
Although not all
Of them are yours;
At least two were
From the Hairless
Who ventured up
The mountain from
Time to time,
Bringing gifts in
Exchange for an
Hour in the back
Of the cave with
Or sometimes
Needing herbs
To cure a flux
Or to make
Them smell
Like antelope
Or to see
The ancestors
Three of the
Children are
Still in the cave
Playing with
Shells and
Blowing the
Whistle which
You made
From the
Of their
You feel
The strength
Dwindle with
Each new moon
Soon it will
Be time for
You to join
The ancestors
Loola will
Cook your
Scarred body
For the others
Who will come
From all over
The mountain
And the seacaves
To consume
You as a
Chewy tagine
With dried figs
And dates
Your bones
Will be scraped
With oyster shells
And buried neatly
With the others
Looking up
You see an
Eagle circling
The sun
Yes soon
It will

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