Your hand is heavy,upon my brow I bear no heart mercuric like the clouds,to dare Exacerbation from your subtle plough. Woman as a clam,on the sea's crescent...

Your hand is heavy,upon my brow
I bear no heart mercuric like the clouds,to dare
Exacerbation from your subtle plough.

Woman as a clam,on the sea's crescent
I saw your jealous eye quench the sea's
Fluorescence,dance on the pulse incessant

Of the waves.And i stood,drained
Submitting like the sands,blood and brine
coursing to the roots.Night,you rained

Serrated shadows through dank leaves
Till,bathed in warm suffusion of your dappled calls
Sensations pained me,faceless,silent as night thieves.
Hide me now,when night children haunt the earth
i must hear none!These misted calls will yet
Undo me;naked,unbidden,at night's muted birth
('Night' by Wole Soyinka)
in the poem above,Soyinka,