I recall the flying doctor,
bespectacled by polished
glass-fragments of fallen stars,
who landed flat on his young tummy,
equipped with scalpels and other weapons of
native medicine.
His first-ever surgery was on a pregnant
calabash —over a fragile, stinking earth
ached constantly by a proud dancing tumour.
I recall the flying doctor,
bespectacled by polished
glass-fragments of fallen stars,
who landed flat on his young tummy,
equipped with scalpels and other weapons of
native medicine.
His first-ever surgery was on a pregnant
calabash —over a fragile, stinking earth
ached constantly by a proud dancing tumour.