Wrinkled Petals

My country's image is waning
Each passing day.
What can we make of her
Coat of rags?
Let's burn her shadow and
Make us a tattoo of grief,
Epitaph hugging her obituary
Consternation in silence.

Violence:
That riotous beauty sought after
all over:
Scorching deserts to
creaky creeks,
Plateau tops to
plain greens -

Even the rains have lent in their cries
Witnessed on the faces of charred victims
Whose offsprings:
Kankara
Kagara
Shiroro
Owerri
Chikun
Kajuru
Zamfara
Oyo
Aba
Abakaliki
Benue -
Wail each day till their throats run dry;
Till their famished mothers
No longer hold high bony fists
Above pale faces.

Evolution of vultures:
Ant-infested faggots are up in arms;
What's the fate of the fetcher?