(For Divine Onah)

You beamed sweetly
And the moon
Appears half tonight.

Half watermelon
Dished on the silver tray
On the night sky
By your cutting edge smile.

Black woman
Dripping molten diamond
From her eyelashes she laboriously lifts
To behold they who
Kneel to paint
What the speechless mirror never revealed.

Of her tonight I sing
Whom Africa stands pleased with
As she washes in the Nile
Of tears from the eyes
Of her proud mother
Sitting on a wooden stool in Ebenta.

- Martins Deep