The Desperate Woman

She stands there, dripping saliva
She is sick and going wirry
She reampts slowly like a tortoise
Leading down to the loo
And back into the thatched house

She was, and has anew born
On the mat, striped palm leaves mat
But why is she
not in the medicine house

She has delivered yesterday
On the river of life,
she counts her life
and desperate she is of knife
So life is dying in her eyes
With a need of help
Coming from the new home