The Pouty Wonder
You are the sculptor’s pride,
the attractive dwarf
whose ripe waist and bottom invite
caressing fingers of the flautist.
You, Oja, the wooden womb,
the mouth without a tongue
whose shrieks move men’s feet
in the eerie dance.
Agape like blatant seduction,
erect like roused manhood,
the handy enigma with ghostly toots
that wake fairies to our earthly dance.
You are the imp with the shrill accent
fondly accompanied by rattling Ekpili,
as Ekwe and Ogene and Udu ululate
in percussions that drive our feet wild.
Oh, you are head of the ensemble,
whisperer of primeval pulses,
echoer of the still and small voice
and icon of my native instruments.
Dozie Nwanna, 9th June, 1979