Fulani Cattle by John Pepper Clark

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Fulani Cattle

Contrition twines me like a snake 
Each time I come upon the wake 
Of your clan,
Undulating along in agony,
Your face a stool for mystery:
What secret hope or knowledge,
Locked in your hump away from man, 
Imbues you with courage 
So mute and fierce and wan 
That, not demurring nor kicking,
You go to the house of slaughter ?
Can it be in the forging 
Of your gnarled and crooked horn 
You’d experienced passions far stronger 
Than storms which brim up the Niger? 
Perhaps, the drover’s whip no more 
On your balding hind and crest 
Arouses shocks of ecstasy:
Or likely the drunken journey 
From desert, through grass and forest, 
To the hungry towns by the sea 
Does call at least for rest—
But will you not first vouchsafe to me, 
As true the long knife must prevail,
The patience of even your tail?

— John Pepper Clark

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