ABIKU by Wole Soyinka

In vain your bangles cast,
Charmed circles at my feet; 
I am Abiku, calling for the first,
And the repeated time.

Must I weep for goats and cowries,
For palm oil and the sprinkled ash? 
Yams do not sprout in amulets,
To earth Abiku's limbs.


So when the snail is burnt in his shell,
With the heated fragments, brand me,
Deeply on the breast. You must know him,
When Abiku calls again.

I am the squirrel teeth, cracked,
The riddle of the palm. Remember,
This, and dig me deeper still into,
The god's swollen foot.

Once and the repeated time, ageless
Though I puke. And when you pour,
Libations, each finger points me near,
The way I came, where.

The ground is wet with mourning,
White dew suckles flesh-birds,
Evening befriends the spider, trapping,
Flies in wind-froth.

Night, and Abiku sucks the oil
From lamps. Mother! I'll be the
Supplicant snake coiled on the doorstep
Yours the killing cry.

The ripes fruit was saddest; 
Where I crept, the warmth was cloying.
In the silence of webs, Abiku moans, shaping
Mounds from the yolk.