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18 Trapped (For the late Pa Albert Cho Ngafor, a man born far ahead of his time) I know what to do When he finishes his sermon and sits I will rise as if going to ease myself Then, within minutes I will return with The blood stained under garment As proof of his infidelity If he denies it I’ll ask him to swear on the Bible If he admits it I’ll ask the congregation to forgive him. Drifting Apart It happens every day Men without shame push their luck too far Women without new locks and braids lay more traps And the firmament moves further away. In the evening when we gather to pray We find that all the men are in the bar And the women, although present, argue about wraps How I wish for once I could have my say. Conundrum We are no saints in this world of today But if the world were really our oyster And every drifting pearl a globule Then why on earth are finger prints not the same? ...

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