But white is only beautiful
For as long as it is unstained;
It is red, brown, black, purple…
That aren’t so averse to stain.
Those who have learned to hear
Every tick of the clock in a day,
For bread to eat and raiment to wear,
Don’t have your kind of eyes today.
Eyes, which, on days long as months
Befriend smokes from hearths of clay,
Frying garri*, akara**— for peanuts—
Are now fiery as the Lord’s terrible Day.