A skeletal build
With veins of neglect
Blood of stress and thirst
Meat of hate and pure hunger
Skin of punches of cold in a harmattan visit
And bowl of heat in sunny days
Nails which have tasted the hammer of many quarries
Eyes which have joined the run against death
Legs which have collapsed and been whipped by need to a wake
Why do I see them so well?
Mum Cee 