Your Envious Brother

Ascribe him a name
And say it aloud
So that Sekere may be ashamed
And the samba remorseful
Dance in the eves
Under the cover of leaves
You and her beady eyes.
She says she loves you
And you swoon
But she has told him the same
Your envious brother
He wants to lick your soup
He wants to woo your lover
He wants to loot your store.
His eyes water for your rise
And his lips turn down
Slowly slowly
Like Anini of Benin
He stalks you with flashes of hate
The growing malice of rivalry
The curt reply to your good mornings.
You should have seen the symbols
Long before Harmattan
Rain may wash you away
The man dipping the hand
In your pounded yam
Is really after your blood
And not just your meal.